The  WIFE 

of  the  SECRETARY 

of  STATE 


ELLA  MIDDLETON  TYBOUT 


THE  WIFE 

of  the 

SECRETARY  OF  STATE 


SECOND  EDITION 


By  the  Same  Author 

POKETOWN   PEOPLE 

With  illustrations  by 
FRANK  VKRBECK  and  BEULAH  S. 

MOORE 
Cloth,  $1.50 

"  Few  sketches  so  true  to  the 
negro's  whimsical  side,  so  stamped 
with  his  drollery,  so  illuminative  of 
the  operations  of  bis  superstitious 
mind,  and  withal  so  abounding  in 
good-humor  and  inoffensive  fun 
have  found  their  way  into  print  of 
recent  years." — Chicago  Evening 
Post 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   KHEDIVE'S  OPALS 


THE  WIFE 

of  the 
SECRETARY  OF  STATE 


BY 

ELLA 

MIDDLETON 
TYBOUT 

AUTHOR  OP   "  POKETOWN   PEOPLE* 


PHILADELPHIA   AND   LONDON 

J.     B.     LIPPINCOTT     COMPANY 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1905 
BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1905 


Electrotypcd  and  Printed  by 
J.  B.  Uppincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

MY   MOTHER 


2138500 


INTRODUCTION 


"  The  Wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State"  is  constructed 
upon  the  possibilities  of  life  in  general  and  of  the  diplo- 
matic world  in  particular.  It  is  not  intended  to  portray 
any  especial  administration. 

ELLA  MIDDLETON  TYBOUT. 


THE  WIFE 

of  the 

SECRETARY    OF   STATE 

i 

"  IT  needs,"  said  the  Senator  critically,  "  a  trifle 
more  red  pepper." 

"  But  pray  be  careful,"  added  Monsieur  du  Pre  anx- 
iously, "  a  grain  too  much  would  be  fatal.  Ah! 
Gently — very  gently." 

Are  you  familiar  enough  with  Washington  to  know 
the  Alibi  Club?  Perhaps,  in  walking  down  I  Street, 
near  Eighteenth,  you  have  passed  the  little,  red-brick 
house  with  its  black  iron  railing  and  many-paned  win- 
dows without  even  glancing  at  the  shining  brass  plate 
where  the  one  word  "Alibi"  speaks  volumes  to  the  in- 
itiated. But  then,  again,  perhaps  you  have  penetrated 
through  the  narrow  doorway  into  the  grill-rooms 
beyond ;  perhaps  you  have  been  introduced  to  the  army 
of  chafing-dishes  which  do  such  untiring  and  valiant 
nightly  service  during  the  season,  and  have  even  tasted 
the  contents  of  some  of  them.  If  so,  you  are  very  fortu- 
nate, and  further  comment  is  unnecessary. 

Senator  Byrd  was  giving  a  little  supper  after  the 
theatre,  and,  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  the  club, 
he  was  cooking  it  himself.  His  three  guests  wore  an 

11 


12  THE    WIFE    OF 

air  of  pleased  anticipation,  for  his  skill  in  the  manipula- 
tion of  the  chafing-dish  made  him  an  acknowledged 
authority,  even  at  the  Alibi,  where  the  bon  vivants  of 
Washington  are  wont  to  assemble  for  nightly  gastro- 
nomic contests. 

Senator  Byrd  was  a  leader  of  his  party,  and  his  opin- 
ions were  accorded  due  deference  even  by  the  opposition, 
but  no  political  crisis  received  closer  attention  from  him 
than  a  Welsh-rarebit  which  threatened  to  become  stringy 
or  a  mayonnaise  which  showed  a  disposition  to  separate 
into  unattractire  oily  globules. 

Monsieur  du  Pre  watched  the  descent  of  the  red 
pepper  breathlessly,  and  gave  vent  to  a  sigh  of  relief 
as  the  crucial  moment  passed  safely. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  remarked,  addressing  no  one  in 
particular,  "  did  you  observe  Miss  Powell  to-night?  She 
really  should  not  wear  green,  under  the  circumstances. ' ' 

"  Why  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Rivers,  Member  of  Con- 
gress from  Virginia,  idly. 

"  Because  of  the  old  adage,"  replied  the  little  Attache 
with  a  chuckle,  "  '  green  is  forsaken,  yellow's  forlorn' — 
you  remember  it?  After  her  affair  with  von  Wertman 
she  should  be  careful  about  those  little  things." 

Monsieur  du  Pre  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  the 
most  insatiable  as  well  as  the  most  harmless  gossip  in 
Washington;  he  was  also  endowed  with  an  inordinate 
curiosity — indeed,  his  acquaintances  regarded  him  as  a 
walking  interrogation-point,  and  were  wont  to  assert  that 
his  mustache  curled  upward  solely  to  investigate  the 
shape  of  his  nose,  while  that  appendage,  in  turn,  was 
continually  striving  to  ascertain  the  color  of  his  eyes. 

"  Was  von  Wertman 's  engagement  really  such  a  blow 
to  Miss  Powell?"  said  Mr.  Rivers  curiously. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  13 

"  Oh  my  dear  fellow,"  returned  the  Frenchman 
eagerly,  ' '  did  you  not  know  ?  The  poor  lady !  She  had 
every  reason  to  hope.  He  sought  her  constantly;  bon- 
bons, roses,  and  all  the  delicate  environments  of  an 
affaire  de  cceur  were  hers  for  many  weeks.  She,  herself, 
bloomed  like  a  flower;  grew  young  again — yes,  posi- 
tively girlish.  Then,  suddenly,  what  happened?  Mrs. 
Irving  announced  the  engagement  of  her  daughter  to 
Baron  von  Wertman  of  the  German  Embassy.  Conceive 
the  shock." 

"  Very  shabby  in  von  Wertman,"  said  Mr.  Rivers, 
laughing. 

' '  And  then, ' '  continued  Monsieur  du  Pre  pathetically, 
"  the  flower  drooped;  the  girl  grew  all  at  once  old  and 
ugly.  Is  it  not  pitiful?  I  have  watched  her  closely — 
most  respectfully,  of  course,  but  closely.  Day  by  day 
she  has  faded,  until " 

'*  Upon  my  word,"  interrupted  Senator  Byrd,  "  I 
feel  as  though  I  had  attended  her  obsequies.  Will  she 
be  a  second  Elaine,  du  Pre,  and  go  floating  down  the 
Potomac  some  fine  day  ? ' ' 

"As  I  said,"  continued  Monsieur  du  Pre  volubly,  "  I 
watched  her  fade  until  at  last  I  saw  a  subtle  change.  She 
revived.  She  lived  once  more.  By  a  never-failing  sign 
she  now  demonstrates  her  intention  to  cast  aside  the 
willow — she  again  powders  her  nose." 

Senator  Byrd  turned  to  the  man  on  his  right  as  the 
laugh  which  followed  Monsieur  du  Pre's  last  remark 
died  away. 

"  Count  Valdmir,"  he  said  courteously,  "  I  hope  you 
like  terrapin;  these  are  especially  fine  diamond-backs, 
and  I  particularly  plume  myself  upon  my  recipe  for 
cooking  them.  They  are  a  distinctively  American  food, 


14  THE    WIFE    OF 

I  believe,  therefore  I  have  asked  my  friends  from  other 
countries  to  eat  them.  I  was  fortunate  to  secure  you  at 
such  short  notice." 

"  The  good  fortune  is  wholly  mine,"  replied  the 
Count  politely. 

Although  he  had  but  lately  joined  the  Russian  Em- 
bassy, Count  Valdmir  was  already  a  popular  member 
of  the  Diplomatic  Corps  and  greatly  in  demand  at  all 
social  functions.  More  than  one  damsel  was  known  to 
watch  ballroom  doorways  anxiously  until  he  appeared, 
and  he  was  pronounced, — 

"  So  polished,  my  dear,  so  fascinatingly  indifferent, 
and  so  irresistibly  handsome,  don't  you  know." 

Count  Valdmir 's  polish  suggested  the  flash  of  steel  to 
his  associates  in  the  world  of  diplomacy,  and  his  hand- 
some face  did  not  disguise  the  fact  that  his  eyes,  set 
very  close  together,  were  stone  gray  in  color  and  curi- 
ously keen  and  cold  in  expression.  It  was  well  known 
by  the  initiated  that  when  an  international  crisis  ap- 
peared inevitable,  his  duty  generally  called  him  to  the 
seat  of  the  trouble  and  detained  him  there  until  mat- 
ters adjusted  themselves.  Therefore  his  sudden  ap- 
pearance in  Washington  was  regarded  as  worthy  of 
comment. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Monsieur  du  Pre  as  he  tasted  the 
terrapin,  ' '  is  it  not  a  dream — a  poem  ?  Confess,  Count 
Valdmir,  you  have  nothing  in  your  country  which  com- 
pares with  it." 

' '  In  many  ways, ' '  said  Count  Valdmir  slowly,  ' '  Rus- 
sia cannot  aspire  to  compete  with  America — in  its 
women,  for  example." 

"  You  are  complimentary,  Count,"  said  Senator 
Byrd  quietly;  "  as  a  nation  we  should  feel  flattered." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  15 

Monsieur  du  Pre  raised  his  glass. 

"  To  the  American  girl  in  general,"  he  cried  enthu- 
siastically, ' '  but  especially  to  the  most  charming  woman 
in  Washington — Mrs.  Redmond,  gentlemen,  Mrs.  Red- 
mond. ' ' 

11  To  Mrs.  Redmond,"  repeated  Count  Valdmir  as 
they  responded  to  the  toast,  "  by  all  means.  To  Mrs. 
Redmond,  the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State." 

He  drained  his  glass  absently  and  replaced  it  upon 
the  edge  of  the  table,  where  it  balanced  for  a  moment 
and  fell  to  the  floor. 

"A  thousand  pardons!"  he  exclaimed  contritely.  "  I 
am  stupid  to-night ;  I  fear  it  is  broken. ' ' 

"  It  perished  in  a  good  cause,"  said  Mr.  Rivers 
lightly.  "  I  was  more  than  half  disposed  to  send  mine 
after  it." 

"  Yes,  did  it  not?"  said  Monsieur  du  Pre.  "I  too 
had  the  same  inclination.  All  women  are,  of  course, 
attractive  in  some  way, — some  one  feature,  for  instance, 
— but  Mrs.  Redmond  is  so  altogether  lovely " 

He  paused  in  doubt  for  the  proper  word  and  waved 
his  empty  glass  comprehensively. 

An  even  greater  air  of  festivity  than  usual  prevailed 
in  the  grill-rooms.  Jolly  little  parties  of  three  and  four 
filled  the  tables  and  tried  their  skill  in  cooking  as  they 
matched  stories ;  laughter  was  genuine  and  spontaneous, 
for  wit  sparkled  as  brightly  as  the  champagne  and  the 
stories  were  as  highly  seasoned  as  the  food.  Whatever 
sensations  one  might  experience  at  the  Alibi,  one  was 
rarely  bored. 

The  quick  trot  of  a  horse  and  the  sound  of  swiftly 
rolling  wheels  became  audible  above  the  general  hum 
of  conversation;  their  sudden  cessation  and  the  hasty 


16  THE    WIFE    OF 

slam  of  a  carriage-door  announced  the  arrival  of  a 
belated  guest. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rivers  discursively,  "  almost  every- 
one comes  here  sooner  or  later.  Over  there  in  the  corner, 
making  Welsh-rarebit,  is  Judge  Tucker  of  the  Supreme 
Court ;  that  little  man  cooking  lobster  a  la  Newberg  is 
the  editor  of  the  Washington  Post;  that  is  the  Speaker 
of  the  House  dispensing  mushrooms,  and — 

''And,"  interrupted  Monsieur  du  Pre  suddenly, 
"  here  comes  the  Secretary  of  State." 

Senator  Byrd  exchanged  a  quick  glance  with  Mr. 
Rivers.  The  Secretary  did  not,  as  a  rule,  frequent  the 
Alibi.  Moreover,  as  they  both  knew,  he  had  been  en- 
gaged to  dine  at  the  White  House  that  evening,  and  it 
was  his  invariable  custom  to  go  directly  home  from  all 
dinners,  no  matter  how  early  their  conclusion,  and  the 
night  had  now  grown  very  old  indeed. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  resumed  Mr.  Rivers,  addressing 
Count  Valdmir,  "  everyone  drifts  in  here  at  one  time  or 
another. ' ' 

"  Yes?"  said  the  Russian  politely. 

The  Secretary  of  State  stood  in  the  doorway  and 
glanced  anxiously  about  the  room.  His  tall,  spare  figure 
had  a  commanding  air  in  spite  of  the  droop  of  his 
shoulders,  which  proclaimed  the  scholar  rather  than  the 
politician,  while  his  long,  slender  hands  betrayed  his 
peculiarly  nervous  organization.  They  were  very  rest- 
less hands,  continually  busy  over  something,  even  though 
it  were  only  tearing  bits  of  paper  into  strips  or  folding 
creases  in  his  handkerchief.  Just  now,  however,  they 
were  so  tightly  clinched  that  the  knuckles  looked  white 
and  prominent  and  the  veins  stood  out  like  purple  cords. 

Senator  Byrd  laid  down  his  fork. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  17 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  he  remarked  hastily,  "  I 
will  go  and  speak  to  the  Secretary ;  perhaps  I  can  induce 
him  to  join  us." 

He  threaded  his  way  across  the  room,  and  the  three 
men  watched  him  silently.  They  observed  the  Secre- 
tary's relieved  start  and  his  quick  remark,  evidently  an 
interrogation;  also  Senator  Byrd's  emphatic  reply,  ap- 
parently in  the  negative;  and  then  they  saw  the  Secre- 
tary speak  earnestly  for  a  moment  and  withdraw. 

A  sudden  quiet  had  descended  upon  the  Alibi.  Here 
and  there  parties  were  dispersing,  leaving  empty  tables 
with  their  usual  unattractive  debris  in  place  of  the 
glitter  of  plate  and  glass  and  the  cheerful  murmur  of 
voices  of  an  hour  previous.  Monsieur  du  Pre  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"  So  late!"  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment.  "  I  too 
must  be  going." 

He  glanced  expectantly  at  Count  Valdmir,  who  also 
expressed  surprise  at  the  hour,  and  as  Senator  Byrd  re- 
turned the  two  Attaches  rose  and,  in  spite  of  his  protes- 
tations, took  their  leave.  Mr.  Rivers  was  about  to  join 
them,  but  delayed  a  moment  in  response  to  a  slight 
touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  The  Secretary  is  outside  in  his  carriage,"  said 
Senator  Byrd  quickly;  "  he  wishes  us  to  go  home  with 
him.  There  is  something  wrong  at  the  Department. ' ' 

The  Secretary's  coachman  complied  willingly  with 
the  brief  command,  "  Home;  drive  quickly!"  and  de- 
posited his  passengers  beneath  the  porte-cochere  of  a 
handsome  stone  house  in  short  order.  Secretary  Red- 
mond led  the  way  at  once  to  the  library,  where  the  fire 
still  glowed  red  and  inviting,  while  carefully  shaded 
lamps  cast  a  soft  light  very  pleasing  to  the  eye. 

2 


18  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  abruptly  as  he  closed  the  door, 
"  the  Roostchook  papers  have  been  stolen." 

"  Let  us  discuss  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings,"  sug- 
gested Senator  Byrd,  breaking  the  long  pause  which 
succeeded  the  Secretary's  announcement;  "  there  may 
be  some  mistake." 

"  There  is  no  mistake,"  returned  Mr.  Redmond  posi- 
tively ;  ' '  yesterday  I  took  them  to  the  White  House  and 
went  over  the  matter  with  the  President.  You  were  both 
present  at  the  interview. ' ' 

Mr.  Rivers  nodded. 

"  Well?"  he  said  interrogatively. 

"  To-day  at  Cabinet  meeting,"  resumed  the  Secre- 
tary, "  the  subject  came  up  again  and  I  made  an  ap- 
pointment with  the  President  for  to-morrow;  I  was  to 
take  over  the  papers  once  more,  also  the  plans  of  the 
outer  defences  of  New  York  Harbor.  I  borrowed  the 
latter  from  the  Secretary  of  War;  he  sent  them  to  my 
office  by  a  messenger  and  my  private  secretary  received 
and  receipted  for  them.  They  were  given  in  great  detail. 
To-night  I  dined  at  the  White  House  informally  and 
the  President  again  referred  to  the  matter;  it  is,  of 
course,  uppermost  in  his  mind  just  now.  I  volunteered 
to  get  all  the  papers  from  the  Department  without  wait- 
ing for  to-morrow.  The  safe  was  locked,  as  usual,  also 
my  desk.  The  papers  were  gone." 

Somewhere  outside  a  man  whistled  shrilly  and  a  dog 
responded  with  a  quick  yelp  of  recognition. 

"  When  I  found  them  gone,"  resumed  the  Secretary 
slowly,  ' '  I  remembered  that  you  had  called,  Byrd,  while 
I  was  absent  this  afternoon.  I  thought  you  might  have 
borrowed  them.  It  was  not  probable,  of  course,  but  it 
was  possible." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  19 

' '  Not  even  possible, ' '  interrupted  Senator  Byrd. 

"  So  I  followed  you  to  the  Alibi,"  continued  the  Sec- 
retary; "  the  importance  of  the  matter  is  my  excuse. 
An  international  upheaval  is  imminent.  France,  Eng- 
land, and  Russia  are  vitally  interested  in  our  policy; 
a  representative  of  each  of  those  countries  has  called  at 
the  Department  to-day  on  one  pretext  or  another. ' ' 

The  Secretary  paused  and  moistened  his  lips;  his 
fingers  tapped  the  arm  of  his  chair  uneasily. 

"  You  have  the  facts  of  the  case,"  he  said  wearily; 
"  the  Roostchook  papers  are  missing,  and  with  them  the 
plan  of  defence  of  our  principal  seaport." 

An  hour  later  the  Senator  and  Member  of  Congress 
stood  on  the  street  corner  and  exchanged  a  few  words 
before  they  separated.  Over  the  city  hung  the  mantle 
of  intense  silence  which  descends  about  three  o'clock  and 
remains  until  the  break  of  day.  The  moon  was  setting, 
shining  red  and  crooked  through  the  fog,  a  piece  lacking 
from  one  side  proclaiming  it  was  on  the  wane;  it  ap- 
peared somewhat  as  though  the  moon  had  made  a  night 
of  it  and  would  better  retire  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Mr.  Rivers  shivered  and  turned  up  his  coat-collar,  for 
the  wind  was  cold  and  penetrating. 

' '  It  looks, ' '  he  remarked  as  he  lighted  his  cigar,  ' '  un- 
commonly black  for  the  private  secretary." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  returned  Senator  Byrd 
thoughtfully,  "  but,  then,  one  never  knows.  Good- 
night." 

And  the  two  men  walked  quickly  away  in  opposite 
directions. 

The  Secretary  of  State  leaned  his  head  against  the 
back  of  his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes.  His  face  was  gray 
with  fatigue,  and  the  lines  about  his  mouth  pronounced 


20  THE    WIFE    OF 

and  accentuated.  He  was  undoubtedly  very  tired — so 
tired  he  did  not  hear  the  handle  of  the  door  turn  softly, 
as  though  in  response  to  a  light  touch;  nor  did  he  see 
it  swing  noiselessly  open  and  a  figure  pause  upon  the 
threshold. 

A  woman. 

She  stood  uncertainly  for  a  moment,  one  hand  upon 
the  knob  of  the  door  while  the  other  held  together  a 
white  dressing-gown  whose  soft,  clinging  folds  empha- 
sized rather  than  concealed  a  form  which  would  have 
given  a  sculptor  keen  delight.  Her  thick,  dark  hair, 
simply  braided  for  the  night,  hung  far  below  her  waist, 
while  little  tendrils  curled  loosely  about  her  ears  and 
across  her  forehead.  Pier  eyes  possessed  the  rare  quality 
of  changing  with  her  moods ;  just  now  they  were  widely 
opened  under  their  black  lashes  and  deeply  purple,  like 
the  lustrous  heart  of  a  pansy,  and  her  breath  came 
quickly  between  softly  parted  red  lips. 

A  woman  to  remember ! 

She  crossed  the  room  swiftly,  her  slippered  feet 
making  no  sound  upon  the  thick  rug,  and  put  her  hand 
tentatively  upon  the  Secretary's  forehead. 

"  Estelle!"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  opening  his  eyes. 
"You  here?" 

"  Oh,"  she  returned,  with  a  little  laugh  which  was 
half  a  sob,  "  I  couldn't  help  coming,  John.  I  thought 
something  dreadful  had  happened." 

' '  What  could  happen  to  me,  here  in  my  own  house  ? ' ' 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied  slowly;  "  one  reads  of 
terrible  things.  I  lay  there  listening  for  your  footstep 
and  imagining  I  might  never  hear  it  again,  until  at 
last— 

"  Why,  you  are  cold  and  trembling,  Estelle,"  inter- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  21 

rupted  the  Secretary,  drawing  her  closer;  "  this  will 
never  do.  I  was  detained  by  business,  dear — a  trouble- 
some matter  at  the  Department." 

Mrs.  Redmond  knelt  on  the  tiger-skin  rug  and  held 
her  pink-tinted  palms  towards  the  fire. 

"  I  hate  business,"  she  said  petulantly,  "  and  I  hate 
the  old  Department  too.  It  takes  you  away  from  me, 
and  I  am  jealous  of  it." 

The  Secretary  smiled  and  passed  his  hand  caressingly 
over  her  dark  hair. 

"  You  are  losing  your  beauty-sleep,  my  dear,"  he 
remarked  fondly;  "  to-morrow  you  will  be  pale  and 
languid,  and  it  will  be  my  fault." 

Mrs.  Redmond  settled  herself  into  a  comfortable  bunch 
upon  the  rug  and  leaned  her  head  against  her  husband's 
knee.  The  flowing  sleeve  of  her  gown  fell  back,  display- 
ing her  white,  rounded  arm  with  its  delicate  tracery  of 
blue  veins,  and  the  Secretary  stooped  and  pressed  his 
lips  against  it.  Truly  Monsieur  du  Pre  was  correct  in 
his  statement — Mrs.  Redmond  was  altogether  lovely. 

"  I  'm  going  to  bask  in  the  firelight, ' '  she  said  quietly, 
"  while  you  tell  me  all  about  your  bothersome  business. 
I  like  to  share  your  thoughts,  you  know,  even  if  they 
are  not  very  pleasant.  Tell  me  all  about  it,  dear." 

So  he  told  her  the  story  of  the  lost  papers  and  she 
listened  silently,  giving  the  hand  she  held  an  occasional 
sympathetic  pressure  and  following  his  words  closely. 
And  the  Secretary  felt  vaguely  reassured;  the  matter 
seemed  much  less  serious  and  imperative,  considered 
with  his  young  wife's  head  against  his  knee  and  her  two 
soft,  warm  hands  holding  his  closely,  than  it  had  done 
when  he  followed  Senator  Byrd  to  the  Alibi. 

So  the  worn  look  gradually  faded  from  his  face,  and 


22  THE    WIFE    OF 

a  new  light  shone  in  his  eyes,  as  they  sat  for  some 
minutes  in  that  unbroken  and  blissful  silence  only  pos- 
sible to  kindred  spirits.  After  a  while  Mrs.  Redmond 
stirred  a  little. 

"  We  are  very  happy,  John,  aren't  we?"  she  said 
dreamily. 

"  Happy  in  each  other,  dear,"  he  responded  gently. 

"  Happy  in  each  other,"  she  repeated  softly,  "  and, 
after  all,  does  anything  else  matter  ? ' ' 

The  fire  had  grown  gray  and  ashy  and  she  shivered 
slightly. 

' '  I  love  these  unexpected  little  talks  we  have  now  and 
then,"  she  said  brightly;  "  they  seem  like  stolen  pleas- 
ures somehow.  But  you  are  so  tired  to-night,  poor  dear ! 
Put  out  the  lights  and  go  to  bed;  it  must  be  almost 
morning.  You  must  hold  my  hand,  though,  for  I  am 
afraid  of  the  dark  to-night  and  of  several  other  things, 
so  hold  it  very  tightly,  John." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  23 


II 


ALTHOUGH  the  dissipated  moon  had  sunk  low  in  the 
heavens,  it  was  not  too  far  gone  to  keep  an  eye  upon 
the  affairs  of  earth.  The  moon  cherished  a  belief,  the 
result  of  many  centuries  of  observation,  that  mankind 
was  very  similar  the  world  over,  but  it  liked  to  keep 
watch,  nevertheless. 

Consequently  it  pursued  Count  Valdmir  as  he  parted 
from  Monsieur  du  Pre  at  the  door  of  the  Alibi  and  hailed 
a  passing  hansom;  and  when  he  drove  swiftly  away  it 
still  followed  curiously. 

The  Potomac  shimmered  and  glittered  as  the  moon 
looked  at  it,  and  the  Virginia  hills  rose  dark  and  indis- 
tinct against  the  horizon.  Under  the  Long  Bridge,  how- 
ever, the  river  crawled  black  and  sullen,  washing  against 
its  supports  with  a  steady,  cold  persistence.  On  one  side 
of  the  bridge  lay  Washington  with  its  stately  buildings 
and  broad  avenues — Washington,  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment, the  nucleus  of  law  and  order.  On  the  other  lay 
Jackson  City  with  its  squalid  hovels  and  muddy  road 
— Jackson  City,  the  seat  of  wickedness,  the  germ  of 
lawlessness  and  disorder.  Between  the  two  flowed  the 
Potomac,  and  the  bridge  connected  them. 

It  was  late,  even  for  Jackson  City,  and  in  one  of  the 
small  gambling-saloons  only  the  proprietor  and  a  solitary 
guest  remained.  The  host  was  frankly  and  tearfully 
drunk;  the  visitor  was  coldly  and  disgustedly  sober. 


24  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Now  attend,"  he  said  sharply,  bringing  out  his 
words  with  a  stinging  emphasis  not  unlike  the  snap 
of  a  whip. 

"  I'm  a  poor  man,"  whined  the  proprietor,  clutching 
a  pile  of  dirty  notes  and  coin  which  lay  upon  the  table, 
' '  a  very  poor  man.  I  work  for  my  living. ' ' 

The  hand  which  snatched  at  the  money  was  long  and 
shapely;  it  had  once  been  well  cared  for  too,  and  even 
now,  shaking  and  grimy  as  it  was,  suggested  the  hand  of 
a  gentleman. 

The  face  and  figure  were  those  of  a  man  grown  old 
in  dissipation  and  poisoned  with  the  dregs  of  life — a 
man  sunk  to  the  level  of  his  surroundings.  Yet  at  times 
an  indefinable  air  of  birth  and  breeding  asserted  itself 
and  demanded  recognition,  as  though  to  illustrate  what 
nature  had  intended  to  create  before  man  interfered  and 
spoiled  her  handiwork. 

"And  I  am  here  to  give  you  money,"  said  the  guest 
imperturbably.  ' '  I  see  you  are  not  too  drunk  to  under- 
stand that.  Do  you  know  me?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  raising  his  head  suddenly, 
"  yes,  Count  Valdmir,  I  know  you  well." 

"  And  I  also,"  returned  Count  Valdmir,  whose  iden- 
tity had  thus  far  been  ingeniously  veiled,  "  have  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  you  intimately,  Colonel  Albert  St. 
John." 

The  coins  rattled  in  the  trembling  hand  and  one  or  two 
fell  unnoticed  to  the  floor. 

"  You  are  not  without  fame,  Colonel,"  resumed  Count 
Valdmir  politely,  his  eyes  contracting  strangely;  "  the 
police  of  several  countries  would  be  glad  to  be  informed 
of  your  whereabouts.  It  was  quite  a  coincidence  that 
you  should  have  been  standing  in  your  doorway  the  day 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  25 

I  chanced  to  ride  past.  My  memory  for  faces  is  excel- 
lent, and  I  am  accustomed  to  meeting  people  in  unex- 
pected places;  therefore  I  recognized  you  at  once." 

An  inarticulate  snarl  was  the  only  reply. 

"  In  Germany,"  continued  Count  Valdmir,  holding 
up  his  hand  and  checking  the  different  countries  on  his 
fingers,  "  in  France,  and  in  England  you  are  anxiously 
expected.  Also  in  Russia." 

The  partly  sobered  man  endeavored  to  collect  himself. 

' '  What  do  you  want  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  sort  of  grim 
courage.  "  You  did  not  come  here  to-night  to  warn  me 
that  you  meant  to  inform  upon  me. ' ' 

Count  Valdmir  glanced  about  the  dingy  room,  with 
its  array  of  unwashed  glasses  and  dirty  floor,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively. 

' '  The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  you 
was  in  Berlin, ' '  he  said  reflectively ;  ' '  the  salon  was  un- 
doubtedly larger  and  the  lights  perhaps  more  brilliant, 
also  your  dress  was  then  immaculate.  But  your  occu- 
pation was  much  the  same.  I  presume  you  have,  as 
usual,  neglected  the  formality  of  a  '  license.'  ' 

"  I  raise  chickens,"  interrupted  the  other  hurriedly; 
"  a  license  is  not  required." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Count  Valdmir  suavely,  "  you  raise 
chickens,  of  course.  A  strange  occupation  for  Colonel 
Albert  St.  John,  is  it  not?" 

Colonel  St.  John  collapsed  suddenly  into  his  chair,  his 
few  minutes  of  sobriety  vanished  and  his  chin  quivering 
miserably. 

"  I'm  a  poor  man,"  he  repeated,  his  voice  returning 
to  its  habitual  whine,  "  a  very  poor  man.  I  must  live." 

A  lamp  flickered  and  went  out ;  the  air  was  fetid  with 
kerosene  and  stale  tobacco,  and  heat  radiated  visibly 


26  THE    WIFE    OF 

from  the  air-tight  stove  now  red  hot  at  its  base.  Living 
arrangements  in  Jackson  City  were  strangely  primitive 
considering  its  location. 

Count  Valdmir  flung  open  the  door  and  raised  the 
window,  regardless  of  a  faint  protest  from  his  com- 
panion. 

' '  Bah, ' '  he  exclaimed,  ' '  no  wonder  you  are  stupid ; 
it  is  the  atmosphere.  Now  listen,  Colonel  St.  John. ' ' 

He  paused  suddenly. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  resumed  slowly,  "  in  which  army 
do  you  hold  your  commission?  You  used  to  serve  the 
country  that  paid  the  highest  price — and  served  it  well 
too.  My  compliments  to  you,  Colonel.  You  are  at  times 
invaluable  to  me  and  I  rejoice  to  have  discovered  your 
retreat,  although  I  still  believe  you  the  greatest  rascal 
unhung.  It  is  a  pity  you  should  have  descended  to  this. 
That  unfortunate  contretemps  at  Berlin  was  the  be- 
ginning of  your  ill-luck,  was  it  not?  You  lived  in  a 
good  deal  of  luxury  there,  I  remember — you  and  your 
daughter. ' ' 

The  chill  air  from  the  river  came  in  the  window  and 
ruffled  the  gray  hair  of  the  sodden  heap  of  humanity 
huddled  in  the  chair  beside  the  table. 

' '  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?"  he  said  dully,  passing 
his  hand  across  his  brow.  ' '  You  must  speak  plainly,  for 
my  head  is  heavy  to-night." 

But  Count  Valdmir  did  not  reply  at  once.  He  waited 
until  the  cold  night  wind  had  done  its  work  more  effectu- 
ally. 

"  Colonel  St.  John,"  he  said  at  last,  leaning  forward 
and  speaking  very  slowly,  "  where  is  your  daughter?" 

The  old  man  made  a  gesture  as  though  he  would  ward 
off  a  blow. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  27 

"  You  don't  like  to  speak  of  her?  Well,  one  can 
hardly  wonder.  You  decamped  in  the  night  from  Paris, 
I  believe,  leaving  her  alone  and  without  money;  it  was 
a  most  fatherly  act.  Also  she  was  to  bear  the  conse- 
quences when  the  police  appeared.  What  became  of 
her?" 

"  How  should  I  know?"  returned  the  other  sullenly. 
"  How  should /know?" 

' '  True, ' '  agreed  Count  Valdmir  politely, ' '  how  should 
you  ?  It  may,  however,  interest  you  to  learn  that  Lynd- 
hurst  is  in  town. ' ' 

"  In  Washington?" 

"  Even  so.  He  is  attached  to  the  British  Embassy  and 
has  just  arrived.  I  fancy  he  still  remembers;  men  of 
his  type  do  not  forget  easily.  Young  Hertford  was  his 
cousin ;  he  paid  his  debts  and  sent  his  body  home  to  his 
mother.  It  was  Lyndhurst  who  hunted  you  down  at 
Paris." 

"  She  did  it,"  muttered  this  model  father;  "  it  was 
her  work,  not  mine.  Let  him  look  for  her." 

"And  who  taught  her  the  trade  she  followed?  Who 
forced  her  to  use  her  youth  and  beauty  to  decoy  men 
to  your  house  that  you  might  fleece  them  ?  Who  encour- 
aged her  to  lure  them  on  to  love  her  and  perhaps  confide 
in  her,  while  she  in  turn  betrayed  their  confidence  to 
you?  No  doubt  she  was  an  apt  pupil,  but  who  instilled 
the  rudiments  of  treachery  and  deceit  into  her  mind 
before  she  could  speak  plainly?" 

A  clock  in  the  next  room  struck  three,  rattling  out  the 
time  like  a  series  of  small  explosions. 

' '  I  must  reluctantly  tear  myself  away, ' '  he  continued 
regretfully.  "  Your  secret  as  well  as  your  existence  is 
safe  with  me,  Colonel  St.  John.  Not  even  Lyndhurst 


28  THE    WIFE    OF 

shall  suspect  it  as  long  as  you  perform  an  occasional 
trifling  service  for  me,  for  which  you  will  be  well  paid. 
Now  attend  carefully  to  what  I  say." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  emphatically  for  some  minutes, 
while  the  old  man  listened  with  a  strained  intentness 
painful  to  witness. 

"  I  am  not  what  I  once  was,"  he  interrupted  at  last 
deprecatingly ;    "  my  hand  shakes;    I  cannot  trust  it. 
And  my  nerve  fails  me  when  I  least  expect  it." 
,   Count  Valdmir  made  an  imperative  gesture  command- 
ing silence  and  proceeded  with  his  instructions. 

"  Now  understand,"  he  concluded  sternly,  "  I  hold 
your  safety,  perhaps  your  life,  in  my  keeping.  You 
pay  a  heavy  penalty  for  failure,  therefore  be  careful. ' ' 

"  I  understand,"  repeated  the  other  mechanically. 

"  Then  I  will  not  detain  you  further;  I  shall  return 
before  very  long.  It  is  almost  time  to  feed  your  chickens, 
Colonel.  Good-night,  or,  rather,  good-morning." 

Entering  the  waiting  hansom  he  drove  rapidly  away 
towards  Washington  without  a  backward  glance. 

The  old  man  stood  in  the  door  and  watched  the  re- 
treating vehicle,  which  looked  strangely  black  and  mis- 
shapen in  the  uncertain  light.  As  the  echo  of  the  quick 
trot  upon  the  bridge  grew  less  distinct  he  clinched  his 
hand  tightly,  and  raising  his  trembling  fist  shook  it  in 
the  empty  air.  Returning  to  the  house,  he  closed  the 
window  and,  sinking  into  a  chair,  succumbed  to  the 
physical  collapse  inevitable  to  men  of  his  type  after 
strong  mental  excitement.  His  head  fell  forward  on  his 
breast  and  he  breathed  heavily,  his  brow  moist  and 
clammy  with  beads  of  cold  perspiration  standing  out 
upon  it.  A  delicious  sense  of  oblivion  enveloped  him, 
and  his  body  surged  forward  dangerously. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  29 

Colonel  St.  John  was  asleep. 

Asleep  with  his  gray  head  upon  the  notched  and 
rickety  table,  and  with  the  little  heap  of  ill-gained  money 
forgotten  and  unnoticed.  Suddenly  his  face  softened 
and  a  singularly  sweet  smile  changed  its  whole  expres- 
sion. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  in  a  full,  cultivated  voice,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  appealingly,  "  you  look  remarkably 
well  to-night.  That  gown  suits  you  to  perfection." 

Colonel  St.  John  was  dreaming. 

Count  Valdmir  dismissed  his  hansom  and  inserted  his 
latchkey  in  the  door  of  his  apartment.  He  was  thor- 
oughly chilled  by  his  drive  across  the  Potomac,  and  the 
sight  of  an  armchair  by  the  grate  where  the  coals  still 
glowed  was  not  unattractive.  A  table  within  easy  reach 
held  matches  and  cigars,  also  a  decanter  and  a  small 
glass.  His  valet  knew  his  business  thoroughly  and  had 
been  with  him  a  long  time.  Rapidly  getting  into 
smoking- jacket  and  slippers,  he  sank  luxuriously  into 
the  depths  of  the  chair,  selected  a  cigar,  and  proceeded 
to  carefully  review  the  events  of  the  past  few  hours. 

The  fire  glowed  and  faded,  the  moon  disappeared  en- 
tirely, and  the  wheels  of  enterprising  milk-carts  rat- 
tled loudly  in  the  street  below  before  he  rose  and 
stretched  himself  wearily. 

"A  good  night's  work,"  he  remarked,  yawning. 

Filling  the  slender-stemmed  glass,  he  held  it  criti- 
cally towards  the  light. 

"  To  Mrs.  Redmond!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  put  it  to 
his  lips;  "  to  Mrs.  Redmond,  the  wife  of  the  Secretary 
of  State!" 

A  slight  crash  followed  and  the  fragments  of  the  little 
glass  mingled  with  the  ashes  on  the  hearth. 


30  THE    WIFE    OF 


III 


WHEN  David  Leigh  secured  an  appointment  under  the 
government  he  believed  himself  very  fortunate.  It  really 
seemed  providential  that  the  private  secretary  to  the 
Secretary  of  State  should  resign  just  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  trip  abroad  which  had  followed  his  graduation 
at  Yale,  and  while  he  was  still  uncertain  whether  Fate 
intended  him  to  become  a  bright  and  shining  light  in 
the  literary  world  or  remain  an  obscure  reporter  on  a 
New  York  daily;  secretly,  he  inclined  to  the  former 
belief,  for  twenty-five  is  a  somewhat  egotistical  age  even 
with  the  best  of  us.  Moreover,  he  was  decidedly  elated 
at  securing  his  present  position;  it  had  all  been  so 
easy. 

"  I  can  get  the  billet  for  you  if  you  want  it,"  his 
uncle  had  remarked, ' '  and  I  advise  you  to  take  it.  Such 
places  are  good  stepping-stones  to  better  things;  they 
don 't  go  begging,  so  you  would  better  grab  while  the  bag 
is  open." 

And  he  had  grabbed  eagerly. 

The  selection  of  a  place  to  live  had  been  rather  diffi- 
cult, and  it  was  a  month  after  he  had  entered  upon  his 
duties  in  the  Department  before  he  could  summon  cour- 
age to  apply  for  admittance  to  the  select  and  exclusive 
boarding-house  to  which  he  had  been  recommended. 

"  I  am  the  widow  of  a  Southern  gentleman,  Mr. 
Leigh,  who  lost  his  all  in  the  Civil  War,"  said  the  im- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  31 

posing  personage  who  presented  herself  in  response  to 
his  request  for  the  lady  of  the  house,  "  and  I  do  take 
a  few  paying  guests.  I  always  require  to  know  some- 
thing of  their  antecedents,  however,  but,  of  course,  your 
connection  with  the  State  Department  is  a  sufficient  cre- 
dential, so  I  will  make  an  exception  in  your  favor  and 
waive  further  reference." 

David  thought  himself  uncommonly  lucky  and  thanked 
her  profusely  as  he  clinched  the  bargain,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  the  lady  herself  was  equally  anxious  to  come 
to  an  agreement. 

"  I  have  let  the  north  room  at  last,  Mary,"  she  re- 
marked to  her  maid,  ' '  and  for  my  own  price  too. ' ' 

"  Well,"  responded  Mary,  who  appeared  to  be  a 
depressing  companion,  "  I  wish  him  joy  of  his  bargain, 
Ma'am.  He'll  freeze  in  winter  and  roast  in  summer, 
not  to  mention  havin'  to  light  the  gas  every  mornin' 
when  he  dresses.  He  won't  stay  long,  and  I  wouldn't 
neither  if  I  could  get  what  was  owin'  me — so  there,  Mrs. 
Colson." 

"  It's  very  unkind  in  you  to  speak  so,  Mary,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Colson,  immediately  dissolved  in  tears. 
"  My  father  owned  a  hundred  slaves,  and  I  never  even 
tied  my  own  shoestring  until  I  came  to  Washington." 

The  necessity  of  tying  her  shoes  herself  always  weighed 
very  heavily  upon  Mrs.  Colson  when  placed  in  an  awk- 
ward position.  Her  house  was  large  and  conveniently 
situated  and  therefore  generally  well  filled,  with  the 
usual  preponderance  of  indigent  widows  and  spinsters 
of  uncertain  age.  David  found  himself  the  object  of 
close  scrutiny  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast-table 
and  felt  rather  embarrassed  in  consequence.  He  had 
not  yet  learned  that  the  advent  of  a  young  man  is  an 


32  THE    WIFE    OF 

occasion  of  breathless  interest  in  the  average  boarding- 
house. 

Mrs.  Colson  received  him  with  a  welcoming  smile  and 
at  once  introduced  everyone  within  earshot,  adding 
items  of  interest  concerning  them  in  parenthesis  after 
each  name. 

"  Miss  Jackson,  Mr.  Leigh  (a  cousin  of  Stonewall 
Jackson)  ;  Miss  Madison  (a  connection  of  Dolly  Madison 
and  named  for  her) ;  Mr.  Reyburn  (one  of  our  first 
families  and  head  of  a  division  in  the  Agricultural  De- 
partment) ;  Mrs.  Rowen  (niece  of  James  Monroe  and 
born  in  the  White  House)  ;  Miss  Gray,  Mr.  Leigh,  and 
Miss  Christine  Gray  (our  newest  guests  except  your- 
self) ;  Mr.  Marks  (our  Scientist — connected  with  the 
Smithsonian)." 

Mrs.  Colson  paused  for  breath  and  looked  about  the 
room. 

11  Mr.  Leigh  himself,"  she  remarked,  launching  her 
piece  de  resistance,  "  is  the  private  secretary  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  State. ' ' 

David  made  a  series  of  bows  as  the  names  were  men- 
tioned, and  finally  subsided  into  his  chair,  feeling  flushed 
and  uncomfortable. 

"  Will  you  kindly  pass  the  salt?"  said  the  cousin  of 
Stonewall  Jackson,  who  sat  at  his  right. 

"  I'll  thank  you  for  the  pepper,"  murmured  the 
White  House  Baby  at  his  left. 

David  salted  and  peppered  the  ladies  and  ventured 
to  look  about  him.  He  found  himself  being  calmly  con- 
sidered by  two  large  brown  eyes,  the  property  of  Miss 
Christine  Gray,  his  vis-a-vis.  He  was  relieved  to  find 
her  young  and  glad  that  she  was  pretty. 

She  was  very  pretty  indeed,  was  Miss  Christine,  with 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  33 

the  charm  of  youth  and  the  brilliant  coloring  which  sug- 
gests fresh  air  and  plenty  of  it.  Mr.  Marks  sat  beside 
her  and  struggled  bravely  to  be  entertaining,  but  small- 
talk  was  not  his  strong  point.  Deep  down  within  his 
scientific  heart  something  had  recently  stirred  which 
both  annoyed  and  surprised  him,  but  he  responded  to  its 
dictates  and  endeavored  to  be  chatty  and  agreeable. 

' '  Have  you  ever  happened  to  calculate  the  percentage 
of  mosquitoes  which  have  never  tasted  blood?"  he  in- 
quired by  way  of  setting  the  ball  rolling  as  he  slowly 
stirred  his  coffee. 

"  No,"  returned  Christine,  her  dimples  suddenly  in 
evidence,  "  but  I  expect  you  could  tell  me  the  exact 
number. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  entirely  forgot  to  reply  as  he  pondered 
over  her  words;  he  was  often  dimly  aware  that  her 
most  innocent  remarks  admitted  of  two  constructions, 
and  that  his  fellow-boarders  frequently  showed  a  dispo- 
sition to  become  hilarious  when  he,  himself,  failed  to 
detect  the  joke.  Christine  now  applied  herself  to  her 
breakfast  and  relapsed  into  silence.  Evidently,  thought 
Mr.  Marks,  mosquitoes  did  not  interest  her;  he  would 
try  again. 

"  Have  you  ever  considered,"  he  remarked  casually, 
' '  how  much  better  it  would  be  if  the  human  race  existed 
upon  one  sort  of  food  only  ?  This  multiplicity  of  viands 
is  bad  for  the  stomach. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  frequently  referred  to  that  portion  of  his 
anatomy,  and  always  with  great  respect. 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  like  it  at  all,"  replied  Chris- 
tine promptly.  "  One  kind  of  food  served  constantly 
would  become  absolutely  hateful." 

Mr.  Marks  again  cogitated  for  some  minutes.  He 

3 


34  THE    WIFE    OF 

wished  to  prove  his  quickness  at  repartee,  and  took 
advantage  of  a  general  lull  in  the  conversation  to  do  so. 

"  Does  butter?"  he  demanded  in  sepulchral  tones. 

And  Christine,  meeting  an  irrespressible  twinkle  in 
David's  eye,  laughed  outright  and  precipitately  left  the 
table. 

A  few  minutes  later  David  encountered  her  in  the 
hall,  her  hands  full  of  letters  and  papers,  which  she 
scanned  anxiously  and  impatiently  flung  upon  the  table. 

"  It  has  not  come,  Molly,"  she  said  to  her  sister. 
"  There  is  something  for  everyone  in  the  house  except 
ourselves.  And  yet  he  promised  you,  didn  't  he  ? " 

"  Never  mind,  Christine,"  said  Miss  Gray  gently,  "  he 
may  have  forgotten.  Congressmen  are  so  busy,  you 
know." 

The  two  girls  went  on  upstairs,  and  David  emerged 
from  the  house  simultaneously  with  the  connection  of 
Stonewall  Jackson  and  the  White  House  Baby.  Both 
ladies  carried  brown  paper  packages  three  by  four  inches 
in  size,  each  containing  two  sandwiches  and  a  slice  of 
cake.  Force  of  circumstances  obliged  them  to  spend 
their  days  within  the  restricting  walls  of  the  Treasury 
Department,  and  naturally  robust  appetites  clamored 
for  satisfaction  as  the  noon  hour  approached,  but  their 
aristocratic  lineage  demanded  that  such  bodily  nourish- 
ment be  genteelly  compressed  into  the  smallest  space 
possible. 

Miss  Jackson  drew  the  ends  of  her  thick  veil  together 
and  sighed  depressingly. 

"  It's  a  lovely  morning,  isn't  it?"  ventured  David  as 
the  trio  walked  briskly  down  the  street. 

"  Is  it?"  she  responded  from  the  depths  of  the  veil. 
"I'm  sure  I  had  not  noticed.  When  one  spends  one's 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  35 

days  bending  over  a  desk,  one  does  not  care  whether  the 
sun  shines  or  not. ' ' 

David  had  a  guilty  feeling  that  he  should  not  have 
introduced  the  subject  of  the  weather  and  digressed  to 
a  safer  topic. 

' '  What  a  beautiful  city  Washington  is, ' '  he  remarked 
impersonally  as  they  crossed  Lafayette  Park. 

"  I  see  nothing  beautiful  in  it, ' '  responded  the  White 
House  Baby,  looking  with  contemptuous  eyes  at  the 
place  of  her  birth.  ' '  I  count  money  all  day  long  in  the 
basement  of  the  Treasury  and  dream  again  of  counting 
it  at  night.  That's  all  Washington  represents  to  me — 
to  be  herded  into  a  badly  ventilated  room  with  people 
absolutely  indifferent  to  the  prerogatives  of  a  lady. 
Why,  if  you'll  believe  me,  Mr.  Leigh,  the  men  in  those 
offices  don't  even  think  of  rising  when  I  enter  the  room, 
and  I  am  actually  allowed  to  pick  up  my  own  handker- 
chief and  put  on  my  overshoes  unassisted !  Such  things 
were  unheard  of  before  the  war." 

She  paused  a  moment,  then  added  in  a  faint,  mincing 
voice, — 

"  And  7  was  born  in  the  White  House." 

David  murmured  an  apology  for  the  delinquencies  of 
his  sex  and  felt  decidedly  uncomfortable. 

"  It  jars  upon  one's  sensibilities,"  observed  Miss 
Jackson,  taking  up  the  refrain  in  a  minor  chord  as  she 
picked  her  way  daintily  across  the  street, ' '  to  be  brought 
into  such  close  daily  contact  with  one's  inferiors.  One 
cannot  touch  pitch  and  remain  undefiled,  and  I  feel  I 
owe  to  the  United  States  Government  a  marked  deteri- 
oration of  a  naturally  fine  character — a  coarsening,  as 
it  were,  of  the  delicate  and  sensitive  fibres  so  essential  to 
the  happiness  of  our  sex.  We  well-born  women  are 


36  THE    WIFE    OF 

merely  sensitive  plants,  Mr.  Leigh;  we  shrivel  and  con- 
tract in  an  uncongenial  atmosphere  or  at  a  careless 
touch." 

It  occurred  to  David,  as  he  raised  his  hat  and  parted 
from  the  sensitive  plants,  that  they  also  owed  to  the 
United  States  Government  the  roof  which  sheltered  them, 
not  to  mention  food  and  raiment.  He  had  yet  to  learn 
that  they  were  merely  a  type  to  be  found  in  almost  every 
boarding-house  and  department  in  Washington,  and  by 
no  means  represented  the  army  of  women  who  work 
quietly  and  conscientiously,  to  whom  they  are  an  in- 
estimable disadvantage. 

It  was  customary  for  the  Secretary  to  reach  his  office 
about  ten  o'clock,  therefore,  when  David  was  informed 
that  he  had  already  arrived  and  wished  to  see  Mr.  Leigh 
as  soon  as  the  latter  appeared,  he  obeyed  the  summons 
with  astonishment. 

Mr.  Redmond  sat  before  his  desk  in  his  private  office. 
A  wood-fire  snapped  and  blazed  cheerfully  behind  the 
brass  wire  screen,  its  dancing  light  reflected  on  the 
dark,  polished  wood  of  the  handsome  mantel;  the  win- 
try sun  shone  with  all  the  vigor  it  possessed  through 
the  large  south  windows  which  overlooked  the  wide  ex- 
panse known  as  The  Mall,  with  the  Potomac  winding 
its  sluggish  way  towards  the  ocean  and  the  hills  of 
old  Virginia  standing  in  irregular  array  against  the 
horizon. 

The  view  from  his  office  windows  was  a  constant  source 
of  pleasure  to  the  Secretary,  but  to-day  he  had  not  even 
glanced  at  the  Washington  Monument,  the  matchless 
symmetry  and  dignified  simplicity  of  whose  shaft 
gratified  his  artistic  tendencies. 

"  Mr.  Leigh,"  he  said  abruptly  as  David  appeared, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  37 

omitting  the  usual  morning  salutation,  "  I  want  the 
Roostchook  papers.  Where  are  they?" 

David  hesitated  perceptibly. 

"  I  left  them  in  your  desk,  sir,"  he  replied  slowly, 
"  under  the  bronze  weight  in  the  left-hand  drawer,  with 
other  confidential  papers." 

The  Secretary  was  nervously  bending  a  paper-knife 
between  his  fingers,  and  David  watched  it  mechanically. 

"  Mr.  Leigh,"  he  continued,  bringing  out  his  words 
with  an  obvious  effort,  "  you  are  the  custodian  of  cor- 
respondence coming  into  your  possession,  especially  in 
my  absence.  This  matter  is  of  grave  importance.  The 
papers  are  gone  as  well  as  the  plan  of  New  York  Har- 
bor. I  believe  them  to  have  been  stolen.  The  War 
Department  has  your  signed  receipt  for  the  plan  of 
defence  I  borrowed;  I  myself  handed  you  the  other 
papers  to  read.  The  responsibility  would  seem  to  rest 
with  you. ' ' 

A  messenger  entered  the  room,  replenished  the  fire, 
and  retired  quietly.  David  watched  with  apparent  in- 
terest the  shower  of  sparks  which  ensued  before  the 
fresh  log  blazed  up  brightly  amid  the  charred  fragments 
of  its  predecessors. 

"  The  responsibility,"  repeated  the  Secretary  quietly, 
"  rests  with  you." 

A  dead  silence  followed  as  David  gradually  grasped 
the  situation.  In  the  corridor  without  the  sound  of 
passing  feet  could  be  heard  and  an  occasional  careless 
laugh  penetrated  through  the  closed  door;  a  ray  of 
sunshine  fell  directly  upon  the  large  glass  inkstand, 
compelling  the  eye  to  involuntarily  focus  upon  it  and 
be  dazzled  in  consequence;  and  the  click  of  a  type- 
writer in  an  adjoining  room  was  distinctly  audible. 


38  THE    WIFE    OF 

David  mechanically  noted  these  details  as  he  watched 
the  paper-knife  bend  double  in  the  Secretary's  hands. 

It  snapped  suddenly,  and  the  tension  relaxed  some- 
what. Mr.  Redmond  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked 
keenly  at  his  private  secretary.  He  saw  a  man,  tall, 
broad-shouldered,  and  well  set  up,  after  the  manner  of 
college  athletes,  young,  almost  boyish  in  appearance, 
with  no  apparent  realization  of  the  serious  aspect  of  the 
position,  and  his  eybrows  met  in  a  heavy  frown  of  dis- 
approval. But  he  looked  again  at  the  firm  outline  of 
the  face  before  him,  with  its  clean-cut  mouth  and  square 
chin;  he  noted  the  clear  blue  eyes,  candid  yet  vaguely 
troubled,  which  met  his  searching  gaze  unflinchingly, 
and  the  Secretary  looked  a  third  time  and  changed  his 
firmly  grounded  opinion.  He  believed  himself  a  judge 
of  character. 

' '  Have  you  any  theory  as  to  the  disappearance  of  the 
papers?"  he  inquired  deliberately. 

' '  Not  yet, ' '  returned  David  quietly,  the  squareness  of 
his  lower  jaw  suddenly  accentuated,  "  but  I  shall  have 
in  time." 

The  Secretary  rose  and  walked  slowly  up  and  down 
the  room  in  silence,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his 
back  and  his  fingers  tightly  interlaced.  Suddenly  he 
paused  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  younger  man's 
shoulder. 

"  Mr.  Leigh,"  he  said  with  an  entire  change  of  man- 
ner, "  I  am  much  troubled  about  this  matter,  and,  no 
doubt,  I  seem  irritable  and  unjust,  but  I  trust  you  will 
be  patient.  I  must  go  to  the  bottom  of  it  myself,  of 
course,  but  I  need  your  help.  My  grasp  on  things  is 
not  what  it  once  was;  it  is  a  penalty  we  all  pay  to 
advancing  years." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  39 

The  Secretary  paused  and  looked  anxiously  into  the 
blue  eyes  on  a  level  with  his  own. 

"  You  will  help  me,  I  am  sure,"  he  said  gently.  "  I 
may  depend  on  you,  may  I  not  ? ' ' 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  David  gravely. 


40  THE    WIFE    OF 


IV 


CHRISTINE  GRAY,  dressed  for  the  street,  stood  in  Mrs. 
Colson's  third-story  back  meditating  deeply.  Her  white 
forehead  was  drawn  into  an  anxious  furrow  as  she  sur- 
veyed herself  in  the  little  mirror,  but  she  finally  breathed 
a  relieved  sigh.  The  result  was  satisfactory.  Christine 
had  resolved  upon  decisive  and  independent  action,  and 
felt  that  much  might  depend  upon  creating  a  favorable 
impression  in  the  beginning;  she  had  observed  that  the 
impressions  she  created  were  apt  to  be  favorable,  but, 
notwithstanding  this  fact,  she  continued  to  pay  great 
attention  to  details.  A  bunch  of  violets  floated  on  the 
top  of  the  water-pitcher,  vases  being  unavailable  at  Mrs. 
Colson's  except  in  the  parlor,  and  she  critically  tried 
their  effect  against  her  black  coat ;  they  looked  extremely 
well. 

"  On  the  whole,"  observed  Christine,  regretfully  re- 
turning them  to  the  water-pitcher,  "  on  the  whole,  I 
think  it  would  be  better  not  to  wear  them.  He  might 
draw  conclusions  which  would  not  be  to  my  advantage. ' ' 

She  drew  a  long  breath  as  she  set  out  for  the  street, 
and  felt  very  important  and  withal  a  bit  frightened  as 
she  hailed  a  passing  car  and  started  for  the  Capitol. 
Christine  was  about  to  make  her  first  attempt  at  lobby- 
ing, and  was  not  at  all  certain  how  to  go  about  it.  She 
had,  of  course,  been  to  the  Senate  and  House  when  sight- 
seeing, but  they  had  failed  to  impress  her  upon  that 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  41 

occasion  with  the  sense  of  awe  they  inspired  to-day. 
The  magnitude  of  any  object,  animate  or  inanimate, 
depends  largely  upon  the  point  of  view  from  which  one 
regards  it  and  the  reason  one  has  for  approaching  it. 
No  doubt  we  have  all  seen  molehills  develop  into  moun- 
tains and  shirked  climbing  them  in  consequence. 

Christine  disliked  the  way  the  watchman  looked  at 
her  as  she  entered  the  rotunda;  he  was  quite  innocent 
of  any  ulterior  meaning,  but  she  immediately  felt  he 
knew  why  she  was  there,  and  that  his  glance  was  com- 
passionate and  superior.  She  inquired  her  way  to  the 
House  in  as  haughty  a  manner  as  she  could  command, 
hoping  thereby  to  crush  him  and  establish  her  social 
status  beyond  all  question. 

She  accosted  the  doorkeeper  of  the  public  gallery  a 
little  timidly.  Could  he  tell  her  whether  Mr.  Rivers,  of 
Virginia,  was  there?  He  could;  the  gentleman  was 
then  upon  the  floor  of  the  House.  Should  he  take  her 
card?  Christine,  inwardly  quaking,  produced  her  bit 
of  pasteboard  and  followed  the  guide  summoned  to  con- 
duct her  to  the  Marble  Room. 

One  is  inclined  to  wonder  sometimes  how  many  women 
have  waited  there  in  years  past,  and  what  tales  of  good 
and  evil  the  dignified  walls  could  repeat  if  they  felt 
so  inclined;  and  to  wonder,  also,  how  many  will  wait 
there  in  years  to  come,  and  what  secrets  will  be  entrusted 
to  the  polished  stone.  Perhaps  they  will  be  more  inno- 
cent than  many  of  those  now  inscribed,  and  the  hearts 
they  reflect  more  guileless  and  unsullied  than  some 
reflected  in  the  past. 

Mr.  Rivers,  of  Virginia,  entered  hastily.  He  was 
obviously  annoyed  as  he  looked  from  the  card  in  his 
hand  at  the  different  women  assembled  there,  and  said 


42  THE    WIFE    OF 

something  to  the  watchman,  who  shook  his  head  help- 
lessly, speculating  inwardly  why  he  should  be  supposed 
to  know  one  woman  from  another  by  intuition. 

Christine  rose  nervously  and  stepped  forward. 

"  Mr.  Rivers?"  she  said  interrogatively. 

"  Miss  Gray?"  he  returned  with  similar  intonation, 
and  a  pause  ensued. 

"  I  sent  a  reply  to  your  letter  this  morning,"  he 
resumed  briskly;  "  you  would  have  received  it  this 
afternoon  had  you  waited. ' ' 

"  No,"  said  Christine  quietly,  "  I  should  not,  for  I 
have  not  written  to  you." 

Mr.  Eivers  was  surprised,  and  consequently  took  his 
first  look  at  his  visitor;  he  took  a  second  and  longer 
observation  immediately. 

"  You  see,"  said  Christine,  plunging  desperately  into 
her  subject,  as  one  swallows  a  bad  dose  quickly  to  have 
it  over  with,  "  you  see,  your  letter  was  for  my  sister, 
and  she " 

"  She  asked  an  appointment  under  the  Government," 
said  Mr.  Rivers;  "  quite  so.  I  have  many  such  letters. 
However,  I  wrote  her  this  morning  I  hoped  to  be  able 
to  secure  something  for  her  before  very  long.  In  con- 
sideration of  my  past  obligations  to  your  father  I  put 
her  claim  before  many  others." 

"  Yes,"  said  Christine  incoherently,  "  that's  just 
what  I  came  about.  Please  don 't  give  it  to  her. ' ' 

' '  What ! ' '  exclaimed  Mr.  Rivers,  such  requests  being 
somewhat  new  to  him. 

"At  least,"  she  continued,  "  I  don't  mean  just  that. 
Won't  you  give  it  to  me  instead?  It  can't  make  any 
difference  to  you,  and  it  does  make  a  great  deal  of  dif- 
ference to  me.  Just  use  my  name  instead  of  hers." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  43 

"  My  dear  Miss  Gray!"  he  ejaculated. 

' '  Oh,  dear, ' '  sighed  Christine  mournfully,  ' '  now  I  've 
got  all  mixed  up,  and  you  don't  understand  a  bit.  You 
see  it's  this  way.  Mary  don't  want  to  go  into  office; 
you  know  she's  a  trained  nurse,  and  adores  bandages 
and  chloroform  and  all  those  things  I  hate. ' ' 

Christine  paused  for  breath  and  Mr.  Rivers  smiled  in- 
dulgently. The  annoyed  expression  had  vanished,  also 
the  curt,  hurried  intonation  of  his  voice. 

"And  so,"  resumed  Christine,  "  if  you  give  it  to  me, 
Mary  can  go  to  her  bandages  and  her  disinfectants  with 
a  clear  conscience. ' ' 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  like  office  life?"  inquired 
Mr.  Rivers  curiously.  "  You  do  not  impress  me  as  one 
who  would  take  very  kindly  to  the  monotony  and  con- 
finement it  entails." 

"  Oh,  I  sha'n't  mind,"  returned  the  girl  absently, 
adding  in  a  voice  she  strove  to  make  careless  but  in 
which  the  note  of  keen  anxiety  was  dominant, ' '  then  you 
will  give  it  to  me?" 

"  There  is  a  trifling  impediment,"  said  Mr.  Rivers 
slowly,  "  the  examination,  you  know." 

"  But  I  took  it  when  Mary  did,"  cried  Christine, 
much  relieved.  "  I  thought  that  I  told  you.  And  I 
passed  too ;  not  so  well  as  she  did,  of  course,  but  still  I 
passed." 

"  You  say  your  sister  really  prefers  nursing?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Rivers,  visibly  wavering. 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Christine  eagerly,  ' '  she  does  indeed,  and 
I  do  so  want  to  be  independent. ' ' 

"  Miss  Gray,"  said  Mr.  Rivers  solemnly,  "  you  bring 
very  powerful  influence  to  bear  to  gain  your  point.  The 
pressure  has  proved  too  much  for  me." 


44  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  brought  no  one,"  said  Christine  indignantly,  "  I 
am  quite  alone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rivers,  laughingly,  "  I  see  you  are. 
Your  strength  does  not  lie  in  numbers,  Miss  Gray.  If 
you  can  make  my  peace  with  your  sister,  you  may  regard 
the  matter  as  settled,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. ' ' 

"  I  ought  to  thank  you,  I  suppose,"  said  Christine, 
' '  but  I  don 't  quite  know  what  to  say. ' ' 

' '  I  wish, ' '  said  Mr.  Rivers  gravely,  ' '  that  I  was  offer- 
ing you  something  better.  The  War  Department  at  sixty 
dollars  a  month  is  not  much  to  be  thankful  for,  Miss 
Gray." 

''It  is  just  that  much  better  than  nothing,  Mr. 
Rivers." 

"  Your  appointment  will  be  sent  immediately,"  he 
remarked  as  he  shook  her  hand  cordially.  "  I  shall  be 
interested  to  hear  how  you  get  on.  If  you  have  any 
trouble,  let  me  know.  My  obligations  to  your  father, 
Miss  Gray " 

Mr.  Rivers  paused  abruptly,  guiltily  aware  that  the 
sight  of  the  daughter  had  increased  these  obligations  sur- 
prisingly, and  proposed  that  he  should  furnish  her  with 
a  card  of  admission  to  the  private  gallery  of  the  House. 

Christine  felt  as  though  she  were  walking  on  air  as 
she  went  down  the  steps  of  the  Capitol.  The  interview 
so  long  meditated,  and  privately  much  dreaded,  had 
proved  not  unpleasant,  after  all. 

"It  is  much  better,"  she  remarked  aloud,  "  to  see 
persons  than  to  write  to  them ;  I  always  told  Mary  that. ' ' 

A  long-legged  youth  with  a  twinkle  in  his  gray  eyes 
fell  into  step  beside  her  and  gravely  removed  his  hat. 

"  Poor  Mary,"  he  said  sadly,  "  I  feel  for  her;  she 
is  told  so  many  things. ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  45 

"  It  certainly  would  be  a  pleasant  change  to  go  some- 
where and  not  have  you  suddenly  appear,"  remarked 
Christine  with  some  asperity. 

"  Well,"  said  the  boy  seriously,  "  you'll  have  that 
pleasure  soon,  I  think,  Christine.  I  've  been  notified  that 
I  passed  the  examination,  so  I  'm  sure  of  my  commission 
at  last.  I  don't  know  yet  what  regiment  I'm  assigned 
to,  but  I  hope  for  the  cavalry.  Of  course,  there's  no 
telling  where  I  may  be  sent,  but  I  will  know  shortly. ' ' 

"  Oh  Harry,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "  not  really?" 

"  Really  and  truly,  Christine." 

The  girl  paused  on  the  lower  step  and  laid  an  appeal- 
ing hand  upon  his  arm,  quite  regardless  of  the  people 
in  the  street  below. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  didn't  mean  it,  you 
know,  about  not  wanting  to  see  you.  Of  course,  I  was 
joking.  You  understand,  don't  you?" 

And  probably  Harry  understood,  for  he  pressed  the 
little  hand  gratefully  and  suggested  that  they  go  into 
the  Congressional  Library  and  talk  things  over  quietly. 

An  hour  later  two  self-conscious  but  important-look- 
ing young  people  emerged  from  the  Library  and  walked 
slowly  down  the  street. 

"  I  don't  like  it,  you  know,"  he  said  positively,  "  the 
idea  of  you  in  an  office!  but  just  as  soon  as  I  can  get 
on  my  feet  a  little  I'm  coming  back  for  you." 

"  Oh  Harry,"  she  said  with  a  little  gasp,  "  it  does 
seem  ridiculous  to  think  that  it's  you  and  me,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  Don't  let's  take  the  car  yet,"  he  suggested  as  she 
paused  on  the  corner,  "  we  have  so  much  to  talk  about 
and  so  little  time  to  talk." 

' '  When  you  come  back,  Harry, ' '  she  remarked  as  they 


46  THE    WIFE    OF 

strolled  slowly  on,  "I  shall  be  quite  a  staid  old  office 
person — like  Miss  Jackson,  for  instance. ' ' 

"  Christine,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  suppose  we 
don't  wait.  Of  course,  I  haven't  much  money  and  don't 
know  where  I  am  going,  but  we  could  manage  somehow 
almost  anywhere.  Come  with  me,  Christine." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  gravely. 

"  No,  Harry,"  she  said,  "  it  wouldn't  be  right.  You 
know  we  settled  all  that  in  the  Library.  You  have  to 
buy  your  uniforms  and  things,  and  they  do  cost  such 
a  lot.  I  think  it's  very  mean  to  give  second  lieutenants 
such  little  salaries.  I  'm  sure  it 's  a  very  important  posi- 
tion for  a  man  to  occupy,  and  he  ought  to  be  paid  accord- 
ingly." 

And  undoubtedly  all  second  lieutenants  would  heartily 
endorse  this  opinion. 

"  But,"  she  continued  brightly,  "  the  time  will  soon 
pass,  for  we  will  both  be  busy.  And  then  when  you 
feel  that  it 's  right  for  you  to  do  it, — really  right,  Harry, 
— why,  you  can  tell  me  so.  And  when  you  come 
back—  -" 

"  Well,  Christine?" 

A  mist  formed  before  her  eyes  and  obscured  surround- 
ing objects,  but  she  brushed  it  aside  impatiently. 

"  Why,  then,"  she  replied  with  a  little  break  in  her 
voice,  "  you  will  find  me  ready  for  my  marching  orders, 
General  Fielding." 

And  the  paradise  especially  prepared  for  the  young 
and  hopeful  opened  its  gates  before  them,  plainly  visible 
and  apparently  easy  of  access.  We  have  all  looked  at 
the  western  sky  when  the  sun  was  setting ;  we  have  seen 
its  scarlet  and  gold  merge  into  the  purple  horizon,  and 
the  gray,  leaden  clouds  change  suddenly  into  a  canopy 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  47 

of  glory;  and  we  have  thought,  because  we  could  not 
help  it,  about  another  world  whose  streets  are  golden  and 
its  gates  precious  jewels.  It  seems  very  near — that  other 
world ;  we  can  almost  reach  the  portal,  which  will  open 
at  the  touch  of  a  finger,  and  involuntarily  we  stretch  out 
our  hands. 

And  then  we  realize  the  distance.  The  light  begins 
to  fade,  and  we  look  down  at  the  ploughed  fields  and 
muddy  ways  we  must  cross  and  feel  discouraged.  For 
we  know,  beyond  all  doubt,  we  will  be  tired  when  we 
get  there — too  tired  to  care  very  much  about  anything; 
we  know  also  that  the  gates  are  not  jewels  after  all,  but 
iron  and  tightly  locked ;  and  we  fear  our  hands  are  not 
quite  strong  enough  to  turn  the  key.  We  are  sure  of 
this  because  the  sun  has  set,  and  we  are  no  longer 
blinded  by  its  radiance. 

But  the  boy  and  girl,  whose  combined  summers  num- 
bered little  more  than  forty,  looked  across  the  expanse 
of  intervening  time  at  their  goal,  illumined  until  it 
shone  distinct  and  beautiful  against  its  misty  back- 
ground of  uncertainty.  They  did  not  think  of  the  time 
which  might  elapse  before  they  achieved  it ;  nor  did  they 
realize  that  this  time  must  be  lived  day  by  day,  hour 
by  hour,  and  that  life  is  sometimes  difficult  and  always 
perplexing.  They  saw  their  paradise  clearly.  Its  way 
lay  straight  before  them,  and  they  entertained  no  doubts 
of  reaching  it  at  last.  Why,  indeed,  should  they? 


48  THE    WIFE    OF 


V 


THE  Secretary  of  State  and  Mrs.  Redmond  stood  at 
the  door  of  the  ballroom  to  receive  their  guests. 

Without,  a  fine  white  mist  fell  steadily.  The  street 
was  wet  and  slippery,  with  the  light  of  many  carriage 
lamps  reflected  on  its  shining  asphalt,  and  coachmen 
swore  roundly  as  they  huddled  on  their  boxes,  sullen 
lumps  of  misery,  while  across  the  park  and  down  the 
wide  avenue  the  east  wind  hurried  breathlessly. 

Within,  Persian  rugs  and  rich  hangings  glowed  in  the 
radiance  of  many  lights;  the  air  was  moist  and  warm, 
and  heavy  with  the  scent  of  roses;  while  up  the  wide 
staircase  and  through  the  spacious  rooms  surged  the 
endless  stream  of  humanity. 

"  One  always  sees  the  people  one  wants  to  see  at 
Mrs.  Redmond's,  don't  you  know?"  remarked  a  gilded 
youth  of  Washington  when  asked  why  he  never  allowed 
a  previous  engagement  to  interfere  with  his  acceptance 
of  her  invitations.  And  his  argument  was  admitted  as 
sound. 

The  Secretary  was  tired.  For  what  seemed  to  him  an 
interminable  period  he  had  been  exchanging  polite  in- 
anities with  one  person  after  another.  Fat  women 
melted  into  thin  women ;  gray-haired  men  replaced  cal- 
low youths ;  statesmen  stepped  upon  the  skirts  of  debu- 
tantes; diplomats  followed  one  another  in  quick  succes- 
sion, and  still  they  came.  The  Secretary  wondered 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  49 

vaguely  whether  he  looked  as  bored  as  the  man  who 
announced  the  guests,  and  felt  a  sympathy  for  him. 

"  The  Chinese  Minister  and  Mrs.  Chang!"  shouted 
that  factotum,  and  the  little  lady  tottered  along  on  her 
useless  stumps  of  feet  in  the  wake  of  her  burly  lord  and 
master,  a  round  spot  of  bright  red  paint  on  either  cheek 
and  a  large  yellow  chrysanthemum  over  each  ear.  Mrs. 
Chang  in  her  gorgeous  oriental  dress  and  speaking  her 
pretty  broken  English  was  a  welcome  addition  to  all 
social  functions. 

Monsieur  du  Pre  had  arrived  in  good  season  and  now 
stood  where  he  could  command  a  view  of  his  hostess  un- 
observed by  her.  It  was  Monsieur  du  Pre's  theory  that 
when  any  one  of  his  senses  was  pleasantly  affected  it 
should  be  gratified  as  often  as  possible;  therefore  he 
meant  on  this  occasion  to  indulge  his  eyes  whenever  prac- 
ticable. 

"  Does  she  not  surpass  herself  to-night?"  he  ex- 
claimed rapturously.  "  Is  she  not  superb?  And  then 
her  jewels.  Man  Dieu!  Her  jewels. " 

And,  indeed,  Mrs.  Redmond  justified  his  enthusiasm. 
Her  white  satin  gown  was  cut  with  a  severity  of  style 
well  adapted  to  display  her  graceful  figure  to  the  best 
advantage.  An  arch  of  diamonds  spanned  her  dark 
hair,  supporting  a  crescent  of  flawless  opals  which  radi- 
ated rays  of  fire  with  every  motion  of  her  head,  while 
a  string  of  diamonds  encircled  her  neck,  one  large, 
curiously  shaped  opal  forming  a  pendant  which  alter- 
nately glowed  and  paled  upon  her  white  throat.  About 
her  waist  was  a  girdle  composed  of  close,  flexible  links 
of  dull  gold  heavily  studded  with  opals,  each  stone 
being  set  in  diamond  points.  Mrs.  Redmond's  jewels 
were  the  envy  of  her  feminine  acquaintances,  but  the 

4 


50  THE    WIFE    OF 

priceless  opals  were  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  all 
Washington. 

' '  How  hot  it  is ! "  observed  a  dowager  in  purple  satin 
to  one  in  black  as  the  rooms  filled  rapidly. 

"  My  dear,"  returned  the  other  confidentially,  "  I 
assure  you  that  nothing  in  the  world  but  the  fear  of  dis- 
appointing Isabel  lured  me  from  my  chimney-corner  to- 
night. These  crushes  are  most  unsatisfactory,  don't  you 
think  so?" 

"  Isabel  looks  extremely  well  this  evening,"  remarked 
the  first  speaker  pleasantly;  "  she  is  quite  the  prettiest 
girl  in  the  room.  Now  I  had  to  pilot  my  niece  through 
four  seasons — one  whole  administration — before  I  got 
her  settled,  but  I  fancy  you  won't  have  the  same  ex- 
perience. ' ' 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  was  the  doubtful  response, 
"  this  is  her  second  season,  and  neither  Isabel  nor  her 
father  seem  to  realize  the  importance  of  an  early  and 
advantageous  marriage  for  a  girl.  ' '  '  My  dear, '  I  often 
say  to  her,  '  as  time  passes  your  roses  fade  and  your 
chances  grow  less' By  the  way" — interrupting  her- 
self hastily — "  who  is  that  being  presented  to  her?" 

Two  pairs  of  gold  lorgnettes  were  levelled  upon  the 
unconscious  man  as  he  bowed  to  Isabel  and  carelessly 
straightened  the  flower  in  his  buttonhole. 

"  I  think,"  said  she  of  the  purple  satin  with  renewed 
interest,  "  that  it  is  the  Hon.  Cecil  Lyndhurst,  one  of 
the  new  British  Attaches.  A  great  catch,  my  dear. 
Second  son,  old  baronial  estates,  title  in  prospect,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  Isabel  could  not  do  better. ' ' 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  careful  aunt  thoughtfully,  "  in- 
deed I" 

The  lorgnettes  were  dropped  and  fans  resumed. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  51 

"  The  Secretary  begins  to  show  his  age,  don't  you 
think  so,  Mrs.  Chesley?"  said  the  purple  satin,  dex- 
terously concealing  a  yawn ;  "he  looks  tired,  but  Mrs. 
Redmond  is  as  fresh  as  a  daisy  still.  The  difference  in 
years  is  very  marked  to-night." 

' '  My  dear  Mrs.  Layton, ' '  replied  Mrs.  Chesley  acidly, 
"  I  hear  she  once  made  her  own  living.  I  think  she  was 
abroad  with  some  family  as  governess,  or  maybe  it  was 
companion,  when  he  first  knew  her." 

"  Now  I'm  sure  you  are  wrong,  Mrs.  Chesley,"  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Layton  eagerly.  "  I  have  it  on  good 
authority  that  she  had  gone  to  Germany  to  study  music, 
and  that  it  was  her  playing  which  first  attracted  him." 

"-Was  it?"  said  Mrs.  Chesley  indifferently.  "  Well, 
anyway,  he  married  her  over  there  and  brought  her 
home.  He  was  then  in  the  Senate,  you  know,  and  I 
remember  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  disappointment 
among  the  mothers  about  it, — quite  naturally, — we  have 
so  few  eligibles  in  Washington." 

And  the  fans  waved  slowly  to  and  fro  as  the  conver- 
sation drifted  into  other  channels. 

Miss  Isabel  Byrd,  although  in  her  second  season,  was 
still  suspected  of  attending  balls  simply  for  the  pleasure 
of  dancing,  and  the  fact  that  she  was  often  obliged  to 
divide  her  favors  spoke  volumes  for  her  popularity  in 
a  city  where  dancing  men  were  at  a  premium  and  hos- 
tesses frequently  driven  to  the  verge  of  distraction  to 
provide  expectant  damsels  with  even  an  occasional  part- 
ner. She  was  merely  a  thoroughly  healthy,  happy 
American  girl,  ignorant  of  care  or  responsibility,  and 
had  never  in  her  life  lost  an  hour's  sleep  except  when 
she  had  the  measles.  Why  should  she  not  enjoy  every 
moment  of  her  existence  ? 


52  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Hon.  Cecil  Lyndhurst  as  the 
waltz  ended,  "  it  was  delightful." 

"  Yes,  wasn't  it?  It's  the  floor,  you  know,"  returned 
Isabel  naively ;  ' '  there  is  not  another  like  it  in  all  Wash- 
ington. ' ' 

The  Hon.  Cecil  adjusted  his  monocle  and  gravely  con- 
sidered the  waxed  floor. 

"  If  I  should  find  you  a  chair  in  some  quiet  corner," 
he  suggested  at  last,  "  would  you  take  pity  on  my  igno- 
rance and  point  out  a  few  people  one  ought  to  know?" 

' '  If  the  chair  proves  comfortable, ' '  said  Isabel,  laugh- 
ing, "  I  shall  probably  be  very  obliging.  Ah,  this  is 
nice. ' ' 

And  it  was  undeniably  cosey  in  the  recess  behind  a 
tall  palm,  where  a  small  divan  loaded  with  pillows 
offered  an  inviting  surface  for  the  weary  to  rest  upon, 
while  a  mantel  banked  with  ferns  and  red  roses  pre- 
sented an  effective  background  for  a  slender  form  in  a 
white  frock.  Also,  one  could  command  a  fine  view  of 
the  ballroom  with  its  glittering  panorama  of  handsomely 
gowned  women  and  black-coated  men,  which  the  British 
Attache  scrutinized  with  a  good  deal  of  interest. 

"  Well,"  inquired  Miss  Byrd  suddenly,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  us  ? " 

•"  Collectively  or  individually?"  returned  the  Hon. 
Cecil,  quite  unmoved  by  the  abruptness  of  the  query. 

"Both." 

"  Individually  you  interest  me  very  much;  collec- 
tively I  have  not  had  time  to  form  an  opinion.  I  only 
arrived  at  the  Legation  yesterday,  and  my  Chief  brought 
me  here  to-night." 

"  We  will  probably  be  very  nice  to  you,"  returned 
Isabel.  "  We're  awfully  polite  to  diplomats  as  a  rule." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  53 

' '  Now, ' '  she  continued,  leaning  back  comfortably, 
"  ask  me  some  questions.  I  am  all  prepared  to  be  in- 
structive. ' ' 

"  First,"  he  said,  after  a  comprehensive  view  of  the 
room,  "  who  is  the  impressive  old  lady  in  black  looking 
this  way  with  such  interest?" 

"  That  is  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Chesley,"  said  Isabel,  laugh- 
ing, ' '  and  she  is  talking  to  my  father,  Senator  Byrd ;  I 
will  present  you  to  them  both  after  awhile.  I  have  no 
other  relatives  here,  so  you  can  be  as  unguarded  as  you 
please." 

They  both  laughed  a  little,  and  Isabel  continued,  a 
scarcely  perceptible  motion  of  her  fan  indicating  the 
person  of  whom  she  spoke. 

' '  Miss  Stone,  the  Chicago  heiress ;  she  is  naturally  in 
great  demand,  so  you  must  lose  no  time  in  meeting  her. ' ' 

' '  Of  course,  I  shall  be  charmed, ' '  he  returned  politely, 
' '  but  there  is  no  need  for  undue  haste,  is  there  ? ' ' 

"  The  Minister  from  the  Netherlands.  I  don't  know 
why  he  always  seems  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  romance, ' ' 
said  Isabel,  interrupting  herself,  "  he  is  certainly  most 
commonplace,  but  I  always  think  of  him  as  very  inter- 
esting. I  suppose  it  is  the  name — the  Netherlands 
sounds  so  fascinating,  somehow. 

"  '  A  rose  by  any  other  name, '  "  he  quoted,  smiling. 

"  The  Russian  Ambassador  and  Count  Valdmir,  one 
of  the  new  Attaches, ' '  resumed  Isabel.  ' '  I  see  you  know 
them  already." 

"  Count  Valdmir  and  myself  were  stationed  at  our 
respective  Embassies  in  Berlin  at  the  same  time;  we 
also  both  happened  to  be  on  duty  in  Paris  later  on. ' ' 

"  It  must  be  delightful  to  have  lived  in  such  a  num- 
ber of  places  and  to  meet  so  many  interesting  people," 


54  THE    WIFE    OF 

said  Isabel  enthusiastically,  "  and  then  to  know  all 
sorts  of  state  secrets  and  be  mixed  up  in  international 
controversies  must  be  positively  thrilling." 

"  It  has  both  advantages  and  disadvantages,  Miss 
Byrd." 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Redmond  talking  to  the  Russian  At- 
tache. Is  she  not  lovely?"  exclaimed  Isabel,  after  indi- 
cating several  other  personages  of  note. 

Mr.  Lyndhurst  adjusted  his  eyeglass  critically.  He 
had  been  obliged  to  pass  on  with  a  hasty  glance  when 
presented,  owing  to  pressure  in  the  rear,  and  felt  a 
natural  curiosity  as  to  the  appearance  of  his  hostess,  who 
now  turned,  as  though  in  response  to  his  desire,  and 
walked  towards  them,  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of  Count 
Valdmir  and  her  jewels  gleaming  under  the  electric 
lights.  Miss  Byrd  rose  and  closed  her  fan. 

"  Will  you  take  me  to  my  aunt?"  she  asked.  "  We 
have  been  here  quite  too  long,  I  fear." 

But  her  companion  did  not  reply.  He  was  watching 
the  white  train  of  Mrs.  Redmond's  gown  disappear  into 
the  conservatory  opposite,  and  on  his  face  was  the  in- 
credulous expression  of  one  suddenly  confronted  by  the 
impossible. 

The  dim  light  of  the  conservatory  and  the  cool  green 
of  many  palms  offered  a  restful  vista  for  eyes  wearied 
with  the  glitter  of  the  ballroom,  and  the  splash  and 
ripple  of  a  small  fountain  replaced  the  music  of  the 
band  most  acceptably.  The  Russian  Attache  indicated 
a  divan,  comfortable  with  many  pillows. 

"  Madame  is  tired,"  he  remarked.  "It  is  weary 
work,  receiving  people,  especially  with  the  American 
custom  of  shaking  hands.  Another  cushion  at  your 
back — so. ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  55 

Mrs.  Redmond  leaned  against  the  cushion  and  con- 
templated the  point  of  her  slipper;  her  eyes  followed 
the  pattern  of  seed  pearls  embroidered  upon  it,  and  she 
afterwards  remembered  there  were  twenty-six  small 
beads  in  each  flower  and  one  large  one.  The  conserva- 
tory was  empty,  except  for  themselves,  but  through  the 
curtained  door  came  the  hum  of  conversation  mingled 
with  strains  of  music,  and  shadows  of  passing  figures 
fell  dark  upon  the  white  marble  floor ;  the  air  was  heavy 
with  the  scent  of  blooming  plants  and  oppressive  in  its 
moist  heat. 

Mrs.  Redmond  smoothed  her  long  white  glove  until 
not  a  wrinkle  remained. 

"  Well?"  she  said  interrogatively. 

Her  companion  broke  a  leaf  off  the  plant  nearest  him 
and  slowly  tore  it  into  bits. 

"  I  received  the  roll  of  music,  Madame,"  he  said  at 
last,  "  many  thanks  for  your  trouble.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, quite  complete." 

"Indeed?" 

"  The  translation  was  lacking,  consequently  the  song 
itself  is  to  me  pointless.  In  fact,  Madame,  it  resembles 
a  lock  without  a  key. ' ' 

"  You  are  apt  in  your  similes,  Count." 

He  stooped  to  pick  up  a  cushion  which  had  slipped 
to  the  floor  and  replaced  it  carefully  on  the  divan. 

"  Might  I  venture  to  trespass  further  on  your  kind- 
ness, Madame?"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  should  much  ap- 
preciate the  translation.  I  am  interested  in  the  folk- 
lore of  all  countries,  but  their  dialects  are  puzzling. 
Will  you  come  to  my  assistance  ? ' ' 

The  last  notes  of  a  waltz  died  away  with  the  lingering 
sweetness  peculiar  to  some  melodies,  and  the  conserva- 


56  THE    WIFE    OF 

tory  was  suddenly  alive  with  the  voices  and  laughter  of 
dancers  who  eagerly  sought  the  cushioned  seats  judi- 
ciously placed  in  the  dimly  lighted  seclusion  of  remote 
corners  or  conveniently  large  palms. 

The  Secretary,  laboriously  escorting  a  stout  matron 
towards  the  supper-room,  passed  so  close  to  his  wife  and 
her  companion  that  she  might  have  touched  him  by  put- 
ting out  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Layton,"  he  was  saying  in  evident 
reply  to  her  interrogation,  "  I  don't  carry  my  diplo- 
matic burden  with  me  always.  Even  a  peddler  is  free 
from  his  pack  sometimes,  you  know." 

"  But  such  heavy  responsibilities,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Layton  vaguely. 

' '  I  try  to  leave  them  at  the  Department, ' '  he  returned 
pleasantly.  "  When  I  close  my  front  door  behind  me 
I  like  to  shut  out  all  perplexities  and  vexations.  One's 
home  should  be  one's  oasis  in  the  desert  of  work-a-day 
life.  Don 't  you  think  so  ? " 

Mrs.  Layton  made  an  indefinite  reply,  and  their  voices 
were  lost  in  the  general  hum  of  conversation. 

The  Eussian  Attache  leaned  forward  that  he  might 
better  see  his  companion's  face,  which  was  somewhat  in 
the  shadow. 

' '  You  will  oblige  me,  will  you  not  ? "  he  said  softly. 

A  moment's  silence  ensued,  during  which  the  musical 
splash  of  the  fountain  was  distinctly  audible. 

' '  I  fear  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  Count, ' '  she  said 
at  last  slowly,  "  I  have  no  time  to  make  the  translation 
you  desire." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  indifferently. 

"  You  have  many  guests  to-night,  Madame,"  he  re- 
marked carelessly,  as  though  dismissing  the  previous 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  57 

topic.  "  I  recognized  a  face  just  now  I  had  not  seen  in 
years.  The  world  is  small,  is  it  not  ? ' ' 

"  Too  small,"  assented  Mrs.  Redmond  briefly,  again 
absorbed  in  her  slipper. 

' '  It  was  the  new  British  Attache, ' '  he  resumed  reflect- 
ively. "  Perhaps,  Madame,  you  also  remember  him." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  she  replied,  opening  her  fan, 
"  but  I  did  not  hear  his  name  distinctly.  What  is  it?" 

"  I  knew  him,"  said  Count  Valdmir,  "  in  Berlin." 

The  fan  paused  in  its  slow  motion  and  the  lace  bor- 
dering the  bosom  of  her  gown  moved  suddenly. 

"  Yes?"  she  said  in  a  carefully  modulated  voice. 

' '  His  name,  Madame,  is  Lyndhurst. ' ' 

The  fan  slipped  from  Mrs.  Redmond's  fingers  and  fell 
upon  the  marble  floor  of  the  conservatory.  He  stooped 
and  returned  it  with  a  slight  bow. 

"  The  stick  is  broken,  Madame.  Ivory  and  marble 
were  never  meant  to  clash.  It  is  a  pity. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  rose  and  closed  her  broken  fan. 

"  We  will  return  to  the  ballroom,"  she  said  quietly. 
' '  I  am  neglecting  my  guests. ' ' 

"  And  I,"  he  responded,  also  rising  regretfully,  "  was 
engaged  for  the  waltz  just  past;  also  for  the  one  now 
in  progress.  I  am  not  often  so  remiss  as  to  forget  my 
engagements,  but  in  your  society,  Madame,  one  should 
not  be  held  responsible  for  a  lapse  of  memory.  Shall 
we  go?" 

As  he  stepped  back  to  allow  his  companion  to  pass 
Count  Valdmir  unceremoniously  bumped  into  a  short, 
stout  man,  who,  followed  by  Senator  Byrd,  had  just 
entered  the  conservatory. 

' '  My  dear  sir, ' '  he  exclaimed  apologetically,  ' '  a  thou- 
sand pardons!" 


58  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  My  dear  sir,"  returned  the  stout  gentleman 
promptly,  "  I  will  gladly  grant  you  ten  thousand." 

"Always  go  a  Dago  one  better,  Byrd, "  he  remarked 
as  they  passed  on,  "  you'll  find  it  a  good  rule.  When  I 
meet  'em  I  'm  overflowing  with  civility,  just  as  they  are, 
and  I  treat  'em  all  alike,  just  as  I  call  'em  all  Dagos 
regardless  of  nationality." 

"  You  don't  appreciate  your  social  privileges,"  re- 
turned Senator  Byrd,  laughing;  "  many  of  them  are 
first-rate  fellows.  And  you  must  admit  they  are  popu- 
lar." 

"  Damned  popular!"  agreed  his  companion  emphati- 
cally. "Just  look  at  the  women.  Always  ready  to  jump 
if  they  whistle.  Even  Mrs.  Redmond  continually  has 
that  Russian  fox  at  her  elbow,  and  I  saw  your  pretty 
little  red-haired  girl  sitting  in  a  corner  with  the  latest 
John  Bull,  utterly  oblivious  to  the  rest  of  the  world. 
I  tell  you,  I  don't  like  'em.  Americans  are  good  enough 
for  me. ' ' 

The  Hon.  Joshua  Grimes  was  a  specimen  of  that  type 
of  United  States  politician  so  invaluable  to  cartoonists. 
Fat,  bald-headed,  irascible,  and  quick-witted,  he  had 
long  ago  made  himself  solid  with  his  party,  and  for 
many  years  represented  a  country  district  to  the  mutual 
satisfaction  of  himself  and  his  constituents,  finding  time 
meanwhile  to  keep  an  eye  to  his  own  interests  and  the 
accumulation  of  the  almighty  dollar,  without  which,  he 
was  wont  to  remark,  a  man  could  do  nothing  in  this 
country  or  any  other. 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  remarked  Senator  Byrd  as  the 
Member  of  Congress  paused  for  breath,  "  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  asked  me  to  come  in  here  simply  to  abuse  the 
Diplomatic  Corps." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  59 

' '  Well,  no,  I  didn  't.  Fact  is,  Byrd,  I  wanted  to  show 
you  something  I  picked  up  just  outside  the  ballroom 
door." 

Senator  Byrd  responded  to  the  greeting  of  a  passing 
acquaintance  and  turned  again  to  his  companion. 

"  Well?"  he  said  interrogatively. 

Mr.  Grimes  produced  two  scraps  of  paper,  creased  and 
dirty,  as  though  crumpled  into  a  ball  and  thrown  away, 
and  smoothed  them  out  carefully.  They  were  so  covered 
with  pencil-marks  and  erasures  as  to  be  almost  illegible. 
He  handed  them  to  Senator  Byrd  without  comment. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Senator  after  a  moment's  scrutiny, 
"  this  seems  to  be  a  rough  draft  of  something,  I  should 
say,  but  I  doubt  if  I  can  make  it  out. ' ' 

"  I  can,"  returned  the  other  impassively;  "  thought 
I  couldn't  at  first,  then  found  I  could — just  like  most 
things  in  life.  Now  listen." 

The  two  men  drew  closer  together  as  the  Member  of 
Congress  lowered  his  voice. 

"  This,"  he  said,  indicating  the  top  paper,  "is  so 
erased  and  scratched  up  I  cannot  make  anything  out  of 
it,  but  here,  at  the  bottom  of  the  second  page,  is  a  per- 
fectly intelligible  sentence.  '  Will  meet  you  Thursday 
night  and  bring  Roostchook  papers. ' 

"And  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  show  you,"  he  added 
dryly;  "  just  at  this  time  it  is  both  interesting  and 
puzzling. ' ' 

Senator  Byrd  made  no  reply.  He  was  examining  the 
pieces  of  paper,  which  were  fastened  together  in  the 
upper  left-hand  corner  by  a  bit  of  red,  white,  and  blue 
cord.  The  Senator  touched  it  and  looked  up  in- 
quiringly. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stout  Member  of  Congress  quietly, 


60  THE    WIFE    OF 

"it  is  the  State  Department  symbol.  Now  the  ques- 
tion is " 

"Ah,"  returned  the  Senator  slowly,  "  that  is  the 
question. ' ' 

He  moved  forward  as  he  spoke  and  joined  the  Secre- 
tary, who  had  been  wandering  about  the  handsome 
rooms  chatting  with  first  one  and  then  another  in  the 
genial,  pleasant  manner  which  made  him  universally 
popular.  Mr.  Grimes,  meanwhile,  twisted  the  tri-colored 
cord  about  his  finger  and  admired  the  effect. 

The  Secretary  stood  in  the  doorway  watching  the 
panorama  of  the  ballroom  and  enjoying  the  gorgeous 
spectacle;  the  droop  of  his  shoulders  was  pronounced 
to-night  and  the  lines  about  his  eyes  very  apparent  to 
the  Senator  as  he  studied  him  for  a  moment  before 
speaking. 

"  That  is  your  private  secretary  dancing  with  Isabel, 
is  it  not  ? ' '  said  Senator  Byrd  suddenly. 

"  I  introduced  him,"  replied  the  Secretary  simply. 
"  I  wanted  him  to  enjoy  himself." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,"  returned  the  Senator,  laughing. 
"  Well,  they  don't  either  of  them  seem  bored. 

"  I  hope,"  he  added  with  sudden  seriousness,  as  the 
two  young  people  were  lost  in  the  crowd,  "  that  your 
judgment  of  Mr.  Leigh  is  correct.  Appearances  are 
much  against  him.  I  hope  you  have  made  no  mistake. ' ' 

' '  Perhaps  I  have, ' '  said  the  Secretary  quietly ;  ' '  time 
alone  will  tell." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Senator  Byrd,  "  here  is  Mrs.  Red- 
mond dancing  with  du  Pre. ' ' 

Involuntarily  the  Secretary  held  himself  more  erect, 
and  the  eyes  which  followed  his  wife's  graceful  form 
were  no  longer  strained  and  weary,  but  met  her  smiling 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  61 

glance  with  one  equally  cheerful  as  he  waved  his  hand 
with  a  slight  gesture  of  greeting.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Red- 
mond always  exchanged  a  glance  and  smile  even  after 
a  short  separation. 

Monsieur  du  Pre  was  proficient  in  the  art  of  waltzing 
and  guided  his  partner  skilfully  down  the  long  room. 
He  was  conscious  that  he  was  the  cynosure  of  all  be- 
holders and  much  enjoyed  his  position,  for  Mrs.  Red- 
moned  danced  with  a  grace  which  made  her  movements 
the  poetry  of  motion.  The  fiery  crescent  shone  bril- 
liantly against  her  dark  hair,  while  the  glowing  jewels 
about  her  waist  added  a  touch  of  living  color  inde- 
scribably effective. 

No  wonder  the  Secretary's  eyes  followed  his  wife  as 
long  as  she  was  visible. 

And  no  wonder  the  Hon.  Cecil  Lyndhurst,  lounging 
in  an  opposite  doorway,  stared  in  a  manner  not  wholly 
consistent  with  good  breeding. 

That  gentleman,  however,  slowly  retired  to  a  smoking- 
room,  where  he  mixed  himself  a  rather  stiff  brandy  and 
soda. 

'  The  Khedive's  opals,"  he  ejaculated  as  he  pressed 
the  siphon.    "  By  Jove!     The  Khedive's  opals." 


62  THE    WIFE    OF 


VI 


MRS.  KEDMOND  stood  in  the  deserted  ballrooms  and 
waited  for  her  husband.  The  sense  of  emptiness  which 
follows  in  the  wake  of  departed  festivity  pervaded  the 
house ;  withered  roses  drooped  dejectedly,  now  and  then 
letting  fall  petals  brown  and  shrunken  at  the  edges; 
while  the  footsteps  of  the  servants  sounded  strange  and 
unreal  as  they  moved  about  in  the  distance,  extinguish- 
ing lights  and  closing  windows. 

The  ball  had  been  an  unquestionable  success,  but  the 
hostess  was  tired,  as  her  pale  cheeks  and  the  violet 
shadows  beneath  her  eyes  testified  indisputably.  She 
had  neglected  no  one;  even  the  most  impossible  girls 
had  been  provided  for,  and  consequently  gone  home 
complacently  reflecting  that  their  charms  had  at  last 
begun  to  be  appreciated.  Therefore  she  should  have 
retired  to  well-earned  repose  with  a  comfortable  sense  of 
duty  well  performed. 

On  the  contrary,  however,  Mrs.  Redmond's  eyes  were 
widely  opened,  gazing  abstractedly  into  space,  and  her 
breath  came  in  little  gasps  through  her  parted  lips.  She 
had  removed  her  gloves  and  occasionally  raised  her  hand 
to  her  throat,  as  though  the  weight  of  her  necklace  op- 
pressed her.  A  scarcely  perceptible  sound  caused  her 
to  turn  towards  the  empty  drawing-room  and  start  im- 
pulsively in  that  direction.  Pausing  suddenly,  after 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  63 

taking  a  few  steps,  she  stood  irresolute,  as  though  un- 
decided whether  to  retreat  or  advance. 

Again  from  the  next  room  came  a  muffled  noise,  as 
of  a  heavy  piece  of  furniture  carefully  moved.  Mrs. 
Redmond  leaned  forward,  listening  intently,  then 
walked  quietly  towards  the  communicating  door,  lifting 
her  skirts  carefully  that  they  might  not  rustle. 

The  large  drawing-room  was  dimly  lighted  now,  and 
at  a  casual  glance  appeared  quite  empty.  Closer  inspec- 
tion, however,  revealed  a  figure  at  the  farther  end — a 
man  moving  slowly,  his  head  bent  forward  as  though 
to  better  examine  every  inch  of  floor  surface  he  tra- 
versed. Occasionally  he  paused  to  shake  out  the  folds 
of  a  curtain  or  lift  a  cushion  from  a  chair,  and  once  or 
twice  dropped  hastily  upon  one  knee  and  carefully 
sifted  a  little  heap  of  faded  rose-leaves  or  raised  the 
corner  of  a  rug  and  looked  beneath  it,  then  resumed  his 
journey  round  the  room. 

And  Mrs.  Redmond  followed,  step  by  step,  down  the 
long  parlor  and  through  the  little  reception-room  into 
the  hall  beyond,  pausing  when  he  paused  and  noiselessly 
advancing  when  he  resumed  his  line  of  march. 

Across  the  hall  they  went,  still  unobserved,  into  the 
library  and  straight  to  the  large  mahogany  desk  used 
by  the  Secretary  when  at  home.  Now  it  is  difficult  to 
distinguish  objects  when  the  light  is  dim,  and  it  was 
therefore  necessary  to  stoop  closely  over  the  various  let- 
ters and  papers  hi  order  to  decipher  them,  and  even  to 
turn  on  the  electric  light,  which  stood  upon  the  desk, 
thus  producing  an  unexpectedly  bright  illumination. 
In  an  instant  the  searcher  had  adjusted  the  shade,  but 
not  before  his  profile  had  been  distinctly  vignetted 
against  the  dark,  wainscoted  wall,  plainly  visible  to  the 


64  THE    WIFE    OF 

woman  behind  him,  who,  with  a  stifled  gasp  of  surprised 
recognition,  drew  hastily  back,  folding  the  dark  por- 
tiere about  her  white  gown  and  standing  motionless  in 
the  doorway,  keenly  observant  of  every  detail. 

Evidently  the  quest  was  unsuccessful,  for  he  extin- 
guished the  light  and  left  the  room,  passing  so  close  to 
Mrs.  Redmond  that  his  shoulder  stirred  the  sheltering 
portiere  and  almost  touched  her  arm.  And  she  stood 
erect  and  motionless,  making  no  sound  nor  effort  to  de- 
tain him,  while  the  color  gradually  returned  to  her 
cheeks  and  her  eyes  shone  with  repressed  excitement. 

The  latch  of  the  front  door  clicked  softly,  and  a  breath 
of  cool  air  stirred  the  heavy  atmosphere  of  the  deserted 
hall. 

"  James,"  said  the  Secretary's  voice  from  the  stairs, 
"  you  may  put  out  the  lights  and  go  to  bed;  the  house 
can  be  set  to  rights  in  the  morning." 

The  tensity  of  Mrs.  Redmond's  attitude  relaxed  sud- 
denly as  with  an  exclamation  of  relief  she  released  the 
portiere  and  started  into  the  hall  to  meet  her  husband. 

"  Poor  dear,"  she  said  sympathetically,  extending 
both  hands  in  greeting,  "  how  tired  you  look.  Come 
into  the  dining-room  and  forage;  I  know  you  haven't 
eaten  a  morsel,  and  neither  have  I,  and  I'm  starving — 
positively  starving." 

The  Secretary  laughed  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
gently  pulled  in  the  direction  of  the  dining-room,  where 
the  lights  still  burned  and  glass  and  silver  glittered  in- 
vitingly. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  relinquishing  his 
hands  and  pulling  up  a  chair,  "  and  I'll  get  you  some- 
thing. Oh,  yes,  John,  let  me,  I  love  so  to  do  it,  and 
you  know  it  will  taste  better  than  if  a  waiter  brings  it. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  65 

See,  here  is  salad  and  wine,  and  some  of  those  nice, 
crispy  little  rolls." 

"  Wait,"  she  continued,  setting  the  plate  before  him, 
' '  don 't  be  greedy,  John — wait  till  I  'm  ready  too. ' ' 

She  drew  another  chair  close  to  her  husband  and 
tasted  the  salad  critically. 

"  The  best  part  of  the  ball,"  she  remarked  conclu- 
sively, "  is  when  we  eat  whatever  we  can  find  all  by 
ourselves  and  talk  it  over.  I've  been  looking  forward 
to  this  for  hours — and  so  have  you.  Now,  don't  try  to 
deny  it,  I  know  you  have." 

"  You  are  irresistible  to-night,  Estelle,"  returned  the 
Secretary  fondly.  "  Your  opals  are  on  fire,  child,  and 
so  are  your  eyes." 

The  jewel  at  her  throat  glowed  triumphantly,  as 
though  in  acknowledgment  of  this  involuntary  tribute 
to  its  beauty,  but  a  sudden  mistiness  clouded  the  blue 
eyes,  which  darkened  and  softened  as  the  Secretary 
leaned  forward,  taking  her  face  between  his  hands,  and 
gazed  earnestly  into  them. 

"  I  am  very  proud  of  my  wife,"  he  said  gently. 

And  the  opal  changed  from  red  to  blue,  fading  cold 
and  colorless  in  the  shadow  of  his  hands. 

' '  By  the  way, ' '  he  continued,  resuming  his  fork  after 
a  moment's  silence,  "  I  thought  I  heard  the  front  door 
close  just  now.  Did  you  notice  who  came  in?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  crumbled  a  bit  of  bread  and  swept  the 
fragments  into  a  little  heap  on  the  damask  cloth. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Leigh,"  she  replied  quietly,  "  but  he 
didn't  come  in,  John,  he  went  out." 


66  THE    WIFE    OF 


VII 


THE  moon  is  a  long  way  from  the  earth,  yet  it  some- 
times looks  near  at  hand  and  almost  within  reach.  Occa- 
sionally, also,  one  falls  a  victim  to  its  glamour,  and  when 
under  the  spell  of  its  enchantment  forgets  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  distance. 

Then,  gradually,  the  soft  light  vanishes;  the  earth  is 
no  longer  a  Place  Beautiful,  but  degenerates  into  a 
treadmill  where  one  must  keep  moving  or  fall  by  the 
wayside ;  and  the  moon  itself  is  discovered  to  be  merely 
a  luminous  body,  with  no  power  of  enchantment  what- 
ever; in  short,  the  spell  is  broken  and  the  distance  very 
apparent. 

As  David  Leigh  awoke  the  morning  after  Mrs.  Ked- 
mond's  ball  he  was  conscious  of  a  vague  sensation  of 
guiding  a  slender,  white-gowned  figure  through  a 
crowded  room  to  the  dreamy  rhythm  of  a  well-played 
waltz.  This  agreeable  vision  was  gradually  replaced  by 
the  unpleasant  reality  that  the  furnace  made  not  the 
slightest  impression  on  Mrs.  Colson's  north  room,  and 
that  breakfast  was  in  progress  below;  an  odor  of  beef- 
steak wafted  to  his  unwilling  nostrils  aided  him  in 
reaching  the  latter  conclusion,  and  he  also  believed  the 
steak  to  be  accompanied  by  fried  potatoes. 

Plainly  it  was  time  for  the  Secretary's  secretary  to  be 
up  and  doing,  for  another  day  had  announced  itself  and 
the  doors  of  the  State  Department  would  shortly  be  un- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  67 

locked,  ready  for  the  usual  routine.  The  click  of  the 
typewriter  would  sound  instead  of  the  voice  of  the  vio- 
lin; office  furniture  and  accessories  would  replace  the 
flower-decked  ballroom;  and  politicians  with  silk  hats 
and  immaculate  waistcoats  would  claim  his  attention 
instead  of  Isabel  Byrd  in  her  dainty  gown.  Isabel,  who 
because  of  her  gray  eyes  with  their  long,  black  lashes, 
and  for  other  inscrutable  reasons,  suddenly  became  the 
One  Girl  in  his  small  world  as  he  inscribed  his  name 
on  her  programme  and  waited  with  ill-concealed  impa- 
tience for  his  dance.  Isabel — last  night  a  delightful 
vision,  but  a  girl,  and  therefore  to  be  won ;  this  morning 
very  much  the  daughter  of  Senator  Byrd  and  quite  out 
of  the  question. 

At  first  his  recollections  of  the  previous  night  were 
vaguely  centred  about  the  one  face  and  figure,  but  as  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  mechanically  sat  upright  Leigh  was 
overwhelmed  by  a  sudden  rush  of  memory.  Certain 
facts  flashed  across  his  mind  with  startling  distinctness, 
and  he  sank  down  among  the  pillows,  turning  his  back 
upon  the  gray  light  of  the  winter  morning  from  which 
he  would  fain  retire. 

"  Past  eight,  Mr.  Leigh." 

This  announcement  was  accompanied  by  a  knock  on 
the  door,  repeated  after  a  silent  interval  in  a  slightly 
more  imperative  manner. 

"And  anybody 'd  think,  to  hear  the  grumpiness  of 
him,  that  it  was  meself  askin'  a  favor,  instid  o'  doin' 
one,"  muttered  Norah  with  an  indignant  toss  of  her 
head  as  she  retreated  after  eliciting  a  brief  but  pungent 
response  from  within. 

It  was  a  rather  pale,  depressed-looking  young  man 
who  "  troubled"  Mrs.  Colson  for  a  cup  of  strong  coffee 


68  THE    WIFE    OF 

some  fifteen  minutes  later  and  swallowed  it  hastily,  with 
no  apparent  realization  of  the  fact  that  it  was  near  the 
boiling-point. 

"  What  do  you  think  his  throat  is  made  of?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Colson  generally,  as  David  left  the  table 
after  a  hurried  pretext  at  breakfast. 

"  The  same  material  as  your  own,  I  suppose,"  re- 
turned Miss  Jackson  tartly,  fingering  and  refusing 
several  pieces  of  bread  preparatory  to  putting  up  her 
lunch.  Miss  Jackson's  manners,  like  her  shoes,  were 
somewhat  down  at  the  heel  in  the  morning;  the  pros- 
pect of  the  long  hours  which  must  be  passed  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  Treasury  Department  lent  an  acidity  to  her 
whole  aspect,  and  she  buttered  her  bread  disdainfully, 
as  though  repudiating  any  personal  connection  there- 
with. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  remarked  Mrs.  Colson  sotto  voce 
as  Miss  Jackson  in  turn  sought  the  front  door,  "  that 
dear  Miss  Jackson  looks  very  old  and  peaked  this  win- 
ter?" 

And  there  was  a  general  murmur  of  assent  from  Miss 
Jackson's  friends  and  associates. 

At  the  State  Department  much  was  waiting  for  will- 
ing or  unwilling  hands  to  do.  The  Secretary  was  late 
in  arriving,  and  the  daily  mountain  of  mail  accumulated 
on  his  desk  awaiting  his  signature.  Leigh  turned  it  over 
meditatively.  Here  were  routine  matters  prepared  by 
various  branches  of  the  Department  and  apparently  of 
no  particular  interest  to  the  private  secretary,  for  he 
passed  them  by  with  a  casual  glance;  here  too  was  the 
incoming  mail,  and  he  looked  through  it  also,  sifting 
it  rapidly  and  laying  certain  papers  aside  for  the  per- 
sonal attention  of  the  Secretary;  taking  various  others 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  69 

to  his  own  desk  in  the  small  adjoining  room  he  began 
to  dispose  of  them  mechanically,  but  suddenly  he  paused, 
and  resting  his  arms  on  the  desk  bowed  his  head  upon 
them. 

"  There  must  be  some  way  out  of  it,"  he  ejaculated 
aloud,  "  some  other  way." 

It  was  Diplomatic  Day,  and  the  representatives  of 
various  countries  began  to  assemble  in  the  room  set  apart 
for  their  use  before  the  Secretary  arrived.  He  came  in 
hastily,  accompanied  by  Senator  Byrd. 

"  You  say  the  President  demands  an  explanation?" 
observed  the  latter  as  they  entered. 

"  He  demands  the  papers  themselves,"  replied  Mr. 
Redmond  in  a  troubled  voice ;  "he  says  their  disap- 
pearance is  incredible.  I  almost  think  he  believes 

"  No,"  interrupted  the  Senator  hastily,  "  impos- 
sible— 

"  His  manner  was  extremely  frigid,"  continued  the 
Secretary,  unlocking  a  drawer  in  his  desk;  "he  de- 
clined to  discuss  the  Roostchook  matter,  but  gave  me  this 
synopsis  of  the  policy  he  desired  to  pursue,  remarking 
that  it  was  difficult  to  handle  a  case  of  this  sort  from 
memory  alone,  and  he  trusted  I  would  make  an  effort 
to  produce  the  other  papers  and  draw  up  a  memoran- 
dum for  him  containing  a  few  facts,  as  he  disliked 
dealing  in  generalities  and  wanted  to  issue  his  ulti- 
matum. ' ' 

"And  his  policy?" 

The  Secretary's  fingers  tapped  nervously  against  a 
long  envelope  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  and  he  sank 
wearily  into  the  brown  leather  chair  beside  his  desk 
before  replying. 

"  It  means,"  he  said  slowly,  "if  he  persists  (and  I 


70  THE    WIFE    OF 

think  he  will),  war  with  Russia  and  eventually  with 
England.  It  means  needless  sacrifice  of  life  and  un- 
necessary expenditure  of  money;  fatherless  children; 
tears,  and  the  bitterness  of  desolation  to  many  women; 
and  perhaps  a  little  glory  for  a  favored  few.  That  is 
what  the  President's  policy  means  to  the  country." 

Leigh  turned  uneasily  in  his  swivel-chair.  He  was  in 
plain  sight  from  the  adjoining  room,  but  his  presence 
was  overlooked  or  ignored  by  both  men,  and  the  Secre- 
tary began  to  speak  again  in  short,  jerky  sentences,  as 
though  simply  voicing  his  thoughts. 

"If  we  had  been  given  time — time  to  negotiate 
further.  If  we  conceded  certain  points,  even  while  in- 
sisting upon  our  rights.  I  meant  to  mediate — to  be 
conciliatory.  I  meant  to  keep  the  peace." 

"  The  country  is  unprepared,"  said  Senator  Byrd 
gravely;  "  war  means  defeat  and  humiliation,  not  vic- 
tory and  triumph.  Can  you  not  use  your  influence  ? ' ' 

"  My  influence,"  said  the  Secretary  quietly,  "  van- 
ished with  the  Eoostchook  papers.  The  President  was 
not  himself  to-day;  his  manner  was  extraordinary,  to 
say  the  least.  I  don't  like  it,  Byrd;  I  don't  like  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Senator  Byrd,  taking  up  his  hat,  "  we 
must  do  what  we  can  to  avert  trouble.  At  least  we  will 
go  slowly.  The  Senate  will  not  favor  anything  precipi- 
tate, but  I  am  not  so  sure  about  the  House.  However, 
I  will  see  Rivers  and  Grimes,  and  we  will  keep  it  quiet 
for  a  few  weeks  longer  if  possible.  Meanwhile,  the  other 
papers  may  turn  up." 

"  The  plan  of  defence  of  New  York  Harbor  is  miss- 
ing," said  the  Secretary  slowly.  "  Do  you  realize  what 

that  means  just  now?  And  we  have  no  idea What 

is  it,  Mr.  Leigh?" 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  71 

For  the  private  secretary  had  approached  his  chief 
with  a  hesitating  reminder  of  the  waiting  diplomats. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  responded  the  Secretary,  putting 
the  envelope  he  held  into  the  open  drawer  and  turning 
the  key,  "  I  should  have  remembered,  and  I  have  not 
even  looked  at  my  morning's  mail." 

He  sighed  impatiently,  then  rose  and  squared  his 
shoulders  resolutely. 

"  I  will  receive  the  Ambassador  from  Great  Britain," 
he  announced  as  he  passed  into  the  long,  ebony-trimmed 
reception-room. 

An  hour  later  Leigh  was  conscious  of  a  subdued  rustle 
in  the  Secretary's  office,  accompanied  by  a  subtle  per- 
fume, and,  turning  hastily,  beheld  as  much  of  Miss 
Isabel  Byrd  as  the  large  sable  muff  she  carried  would 
permit. 

"  Dear  me,"  remarked  that  young  person  as  he  came 
quickly  forward,  "  what  a  very  serious  sort  of  a  place. 
I  really  feel  as  though  I  were  in  church  and  should 
whisper.  And  you  look  grave  and  important  enough, 
Mr.  Leigh,  to  officiate  as  the  lay  reader.  Is  it  possible 
that  you  actually  danced  with  me  last  night?" 

"  Wasn't  it  a  jolly  ball?"  said  Leigh  eagerly,  boyish 
and  attractive  in  an  instant.  "  I  hope,  Miss  Byrd, 
you  are  not  tired  out  this  morning.  You  look  as  fit  as 
possible. ' ' 

Isabel  laughed  and  remarked  that  she  had  come  down 
to  meet  her  father,  but  believed  he  had  forgotten  his 
appointment. 

"  Why,"  said  David,  smiling,  "  the  Senator  has  been 
here  and  gone  up  to  the  Capitol.  I  fear  he  did  forget, 
Miss  Byrd." 

"  In  that  case,"  she  replied,  taking  up  her  muff,  "  I 


72  THE    WIFE    OF 

won't  wait  any  longer.  Perhaps,  Mr.  Leigh,  you  can 
tell  me  how  to  find  the  State  Department  Library.  I 
wanted  to  look  up  something  there,  and  father  was  going 
to  help  me.  It's  awfully  tiresome  in  him  to  forget.  I 
haven't  a  bit  of  sense  about  doing  such  things  for 
myself. ' ' 

"  If  I  could  be  of  any  assistance,"  began  David 
eagerly,  "  I  should  be  only  too  glad.  Oh,  no,  Miss 
Byrd,"  as  she  made  a  faint  protest,  "  I  have  plenty  of 
time — there  is  no  reason  I  should  not  help  you. ' ' 

The  deceitful  moon  again  seemed  almost  within  reach 
as  the  swing  door  closed  behind  them  and  he  touched 
the  button  for  the  elevator  which  would  lift  him  far 
above  such  mundane  trifles  as  official  correspondence  and 
a  threatened  international  crisis. 

Behind  the  brass  screen  in  the  now  empty  room  the 
wood-fire  snapped  and  crackled  cheerfully.  The  sun- 
light shone  through  the  large  south  windows,  gilding 
even  the  sober  bindings  of  the  corpulent  volumes  of  law 
and  jurisprudence  in  the  revolving  bookcase  and  touch- 
ing gently  the  Secretary's  pens,  placed  in  an  orderly 
row  on  their  rack,  his  brown  leather  chair,  and  the 
bronze  paper-weight  on  the  blotter.  But  the  full  force 
of  the  sun  was  concentrated  upon  the  handle  of  the 
key  the  Secretary  had  left  in  the  upper  right-hand 
drawer  of  his  desk,  which  shone  and  twinkled  irresisti- 
bly, audaciously  drawing  attention  to  itself  and  seem- 
ing to  proclaim  to  whom  it  might  concern, — 

"  Here  I  am,  ready  and  waiting,  come  and  turn  me." 

To  the  Secretary,  seated  at  the  head  of  the  long, 
ebony-trimmed  table,  the  morning  was  interminable. 
He  had  received  the  Ambassador  from  Great  Britain, 
and  had  managed  so  well  that  the  latter  had  retired 


THE    SECRETARY   OF    STATE  73 

pleased  with  himself  and  the  world  in  general.  The 
Chinese  Minister  too  had  paid  his  respects  and  delivered 
a  message  from  his  sovereign  containing  protestations 
of  friendship  and  endless  fidelity,  and  the  Secretary  had 
replied  in  kind.  Lesser  lights  in  the  diplomatic  world 
called  and  delivered  their  credentials  or  brought  docu- 
ments from  their  respective  Governments.  The  Am- 
bassador from  Russia  had  also  called. 

It  seemed  to  the  Secretary  as  he  pondered  anxiously 
over  the  last-mentioned  interview  that  it  was  not  en- 
tirely satisfactory;  there  had  been  an  assertive  man- 
ner about  his  visitor  as  unwelcome  as  it  was  unexpected, 
and  the  request  he  preferred  seemed  to  assume  the  na- 
ture of  a  demand  when  calmly  considered  afterwards. 
So  the  lines  on  the  Secretary's  forehead  deepened  as  he 
sat  abstractedly  in  the  long,  handsome  room  and  the 
minutes  passed  unnoticed. 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  of  a  quick  rustle  of  skirts, 
and  two  soft  hands  were  clasped  over  his  eyes. 

"  Guess,"  said  a  voice  close  to  his  ear,  "  guess  which 
country  I  represent." 

' '  Why,  Estelle, ' '  he  exclaimed  in  accents  which  would 
have  surprised  the  Russian  Minister,  "  what  brings  you 
here?  And  how  very  pretty  you  look,  my  dear." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  immediately  consulting 
the  mirror.  "  I'm  so  glad.  I  like  to  look  my  very  best 
when  I  come  to  see  you." 

"  But  suppose  someone  else  had  come  in?" 

"  They  are  all  gone,  John — long  ago.  I  waited  ages 
all  alone  out  in  your  office,  and  you  were  in  such  a 
brown  study  you  never  heard  me  open  the  door  behind 
you.  Every  now  and  then  I  looked  in.  Now  I  want 
something — can  you  guess  what?" 


74  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Money,"  hazarded  the  Secretary,  in  the  light  of 
past  experience. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  laughing,  "  not  this  time. 
Try  again." 

"  I  am  not  good  at  guessing." 

"  Nor  at  remembering.  Don't  you  know  this  is  our 
anniversary  ? ' ' 

"  We  were  married  in  April,"  said  the  Secretary, 
smiling.  "  I  remember  it  very  well.  The  sixteenth. 
This  is  December! ' ' 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  December  day  in  Paris 
when  we  dined  in  the  Latin  Quarter?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Secretary,  drawing  her  nearer  to 
him,  ' '  no,  Estelle,  certainly  not. ' ' 

"  The  butter  without  salt,"  she  continued  breath- 
lessly, "  the  dear  old  dingy  room,  and  the  white 
wine — 

"  Tasting  like  vinegar,"  he  supplemented.  "  I  re- 
member. ' ' 

"  It  tasted  like  nectar  to  me,"  she  said  dreamily, 
"  and  afterwards — oh,  John,  you  do  remember?" 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Why,  Estelle,  how 
could  I  forget?" 

' '  You  have  never  regretted  it,  John  ?  I  was  poor  and 
obscure  and  lonely.  Sometimes  I  think  you  asked  me 
out  of  pity." 

"  Estelle,"  said  the  Secretary,  looking  earnestly  into 
her  eyes,  "  listen  to  me.  My  only  pleasure  in  life,  my 
only  happiness,  is  centred  in  you ;  without  you  I  should 
not  care  to  live.  The  wonder  is,  child,  that  you  should 
love  so  old  a  man." 

11  Well,  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  between  tears  and 
laughter,  "  and,  dear  me,  how  serious  we  have  grown! 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  75 

What  I  came  for  was  to  take  you  out  with  me.  I  know 
a  little  French  pension,  and  we  can  lunch  there  all  by 
ourselves.  I  mean  to  order  just  what  we  had  that  day; 
I  remember  it  all — even  the  salad." 

"And  so  do  I,"  said  the  Secretary,  laughing  and 
opening  the  door.  "  I  am  charmed  to  lunch  with  you, 
Mrs.  Redmond,  although  I  don 't  recall  the  viands  with 
a  marked  degree  of  pleasure." 

"And  afterwards,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  softly,  "  we 
will  go  home  together;  you  must  not  come  back  here 
to-day — it  is  mine.  We'll  be  comfy  and  happy.  You 
shall  sit  and  smoke  on  one  side  of  the  fire  and  I'll  sit 
there  too,  on  the  same  side,  and  we'll  talk  about  Paris, 
and  Venice,  and  the  old  days.  Come,  John." 

They  passed  into  the  private  office  just  as  the  outer 
door  opened  to  admit  David  Leigh,  and  Mrs.  Redmond 
paused  to  greet  him  while  her  husband  put  on  his  over- 
coat. 

"  Mr.  Leigh,"  said  the  Secretary,  after  a  cursory 
glance  at  his  desk,  "  I  am  going  out  and  I  shall  not 
return  this  afternoon.  The  Assistant  Secretary  will 
sign." 

A  sudden  flash  of  light  from  the  shining  key  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  removed  it  from  the  drawer  and  placed 
it  on  his  key-ring,  while  Mrs.  Redmond  moved  towards 
the  door  and  beckoned  impatiently. 

"  You  will  please  look  over  my  mail,  Mr.  Leigh," 
continued  the  Secretary  as  he  joined  his  wife,  "  and  I 
don't  think  there  is  anything  else  to  keep  you  here  this 
afternoon.  No  doubt  you  can  find  good  use  for  the 
tune  elsewhere." 

He  nodded  kindly  as  he  closed  the  door,  but  his 
private  secretary  stood  stupidly  in  the  centre  of  the 


76  THE    WIFE    OF 

room  gazing  at  the  desk  with  its  pile  of  papers  and 
empty  chair.  Something  white  lay  on  the  floor  at  his 
feet  and  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  It  proved  to  be  a 
dainty  handkerchief,  perfumed  and  embroidered.  Leigh 
folded  it  carefully  as  he  crossed  the  room  and  looked 
out  of  the  window  over  the  broad  expanse  of  The  Mall 
with  eyes  which  saw  nothing  of  the  wintry  landscape. 

"  I  was  gone  for  two  hours,"  he  remarked  to  an  in- 
quisitive sparrow  which  sought  shelter  from  the  wind 
on  the  stone  window-sill,  "  two  whole  hours." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  77 


VIII 


MR.  MARKS,  scientist  and  man  of  erudition,  sought 
David  Leigh  in  his  apartment  at  Mrs.  Colson's  one 
evening  as  the  latter  was  putting  the  finishing-touches 
to  his  toilet  preparatory  to  dining  with  a  party  of  young 
men  at  the  Alibi  Club. 

"  I  trust,"  said  he  with  laborious  politeness,  "  that 
I  do  not  incommode  you  by  my  unceremonious  appear- 
ance." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  David  cheerfully.  "  Can't 
you  find  a  chair?  Oh,  just  shove  those  things  off  on 
the  floor  and  sit  down  anywhere.  I'm  rather  in  a  mess 
just  now,  as  you  see. ' ' 

David  devoted  his  entire  attention  to  his  necktie,  and 
when  he  considered  it  beyond  criticism  looked  in- 
quiringly at  his  visitor. 

"  Mr.  Leigh,"  said  that  gentleman  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  makes  an  astonishing  announcement,  "  I  pro- 
pose to  spend  a  portion  of  this  evening  calling  upon  a 
young  lady." 

"  Do  you?"  said  David  cordially.  "  Now,  I  call  that 
uncommonly  wise  on  your  part.  But  why  only  a  por- 
tion?" 

"  My  paper,  intended  for  the  Scientific  American. 
showing  the  development  of  the  monkey  into  the  man  is 
yet  unfinished,"  returned  Mr.  Marks  stiffly,  "  hence  but 
a  few  hours  each  evening  can  be  devoted  to  frivolity. ' ' 


78  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Too  bad!"  said  David  sympathetically.  "  Now,  I 
am  afraid  I  should  be  inclined  to  chuck  the  monkey 
business  and  make  it  the  whole  evening — of  course,  how- 
ever, that  depends  on  the  girl." 

"  You  seem  conversant  with  the  ordinary  phases  of 
social  life,"  resumed  Mr.  Marks  rather  patronizingly, 
"  while  I  have  had  but  little  leisure  to  study  them, 
being  occupied  with  more  important  and  serious  pur- 
suits. In  calling  upon  a  young  lady  what,  for  instance, 
is  your  idea  of  a  seemly  topic  of  conversation?" 

Mr.  Marks  was  a  deep  and  unfailing  source  of  pleas- 
ure to  David  who  delighted  in  drawing  him  out,  always 
sure  of  being  rewarded  for  this  trouble. 

"  The  young  lady  herself,"  he  now  returned 
promptly,  carefully  adjusting  his  cuff -button. 

Mr.  Marks  made  a  note  of  this  reply  on  the  back  of 
his  visiting-card. 

"  I  thought,"  he  explained,  "  that  I  would  just  jot 
down  a  few  topics  and  hold  the  card  in  my  hand — so. 
Then  when  one  subject  was  exhausted  I  could  glance 
carelessly  down  and  introduce  another." 

"A  most  excellent  idea,"  said  David  gravely,  "  and 
original  too.  What  had  you  thought  of  jotting?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Marks,  "  I  begin  with  Professor 
Bristow's  paper  upon  metallurgy.  Most  interesting." 

"  No  doubt,"  agreed  David  suavely.    "  What  else?" 

"  I  thought  I  might  touch  lightly  upon  Professor 
Green's  description  of  a  partial  eclipse  of  the  sun  in 
Liberia ;  there  were  unusual  and  most  unexpected  feat- 
ures connected  with  it." 

"  I  would  make  the  touch  very  light  indeed,  Mr. 
Marks,"  suggested  David.  "  Why  not  mention  the 
weather,  or  the  theatre,  or  perhaps  the  last  new  book  ? ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  79 

"  The  latest  book  of  note,"  observed  Mr.  Marks, 
making  an  entry  on  his  card.  "  I  suppose  that  would 
embrace  either  Hendrick's  treatise  expounding  his 
theory  on  the  extinction  of  the  mastodon,  or  von  Weber 's 
'  Electricity;  Past,  Present,  and  Future' — a  master- 
piece, Mr.  Leigh,  a  masterpiece." 

David  turned  and  regarded  him  curiously. 

"  Mr.  Marks,"  he  said  anxiously,  "  search  your  mem- 
ory. Did  you  never  frivol?" 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  Mr.  Marks  reflectively,  "  that 
I  recall  the  exact  definition  of  the  word." 

David  broke  into  delighted  and  irrepressible  laughter. 

' '  Brace  up,  man,  brace  up ! "  he  exclaimed,  slapping 
the  surprised  scientist  on  the  shoulder.  "  Read  a  few 
novels,  the  more  sentimental  the  better;  go  to  the 
theatre;  never  mind  whether  we  descended  from 
monkeys  or  not;  for  my  part,  I  don't  care  to  know  the 
exact  truth. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  shuffled  his  feet  uneasily;  he  wore  green 
carpet  slippers  with  a  pink  rose  over  the  toes  thereof, 
and  his  white  stockings  wrinkled  loosely  around  the 
ankle. 

"  One  should  keep  in  touch  with  the  questions  of  the 
day, ' '  he  observed  pompously. 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  David  as  he  brushed  his  hat, 
"  go  out  and  see  girls  every  evening  for  a  while,  but 
for  Heaven's  sake  don't  talk  to  them  about  mastodons 
and  metallurgy.  If  you  can't  think  of  anything  to  say, 
just  sit  still  and  look  pleasant  and  let  them  do  the 
talking.  You  might  send  the  one  you  like  best  a  few 
flowers,  you  know,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,"  confessed  Mr.  Marks,  "  but 
I  feared  I  might  compromise  myself  unduly  by  such  a 


80  THE    WIFE    OF 

very  marked  attention.  I  wish  to  arouse  no  false  hopes, 
Mr.  Leigh." 

David  assured  him  he  might  safely  invest  in  the 
flowers,  then  paused  and  looked  with  interest  at  his 
companion. 

"  Mr.  Marks,"  he  remarked  seriously,  "  what  you 
need  is  to  see  life.  There's  lots  of  it  all  around  you; 
Washington  is  just  full  of  real,  vital,  pulsating  life. 
Go  out  and  find  it.  Take  my  advice,  drop  your  ologies 
and  isms  for  a  while  and  live.  You'll  find  it  pays  in 
the  long  run. ' ' 

"  Perhaps  it  does,"  acquiesced  Mr.  Marks  thought- 
fully, "  perhaps  it  does." 

He  rose  and  started  for  the  door,  but  lingered  uncer- 
tainly. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Miss  Gray,"  he  announced 
abruptly.  ' '  Have  you  any  message  ? ' ' 

"  My  regards,  of  course,"  replied  David  carelessly. 
"I'm  really  ashamed  when  I  think  I  have  never  called 
upon  her  since  she  left  here. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  slowly  retreated  to  his  hall  bedroom  and 
made  his  toilet  with  unwonted  care.  A  pot  of  white 
hyacinths  in  full  bloom  loaded  the  room  with  their  over- 
powering fragrance.  It  would  seem  that  he  made  his 
purchases  first  and  asked  advice  afterwards. 

Mr.  Marks  proceeded  to  comb  his  stiff,  light-brown 
hair  directly  upward  above  his  massive  brow  and  assume 
a  clean  collar ;  also  a  large  cravat  which  hooked  behind, 
thus  presenting  a  hard,  black  surface  in  front,  not  unlike 
a  funereal  pincushion,  and  brushed  his  coat  carefully. 
It  was  of  good  quality  broadcloth,  therefore  the  fact 
that  it  wrinkled  in  the  back  and  was  several  inches  too 
short  in  the  sleeves  disturbed  his  serenity  not  at  all; 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  81 

nor  did  the  manner  in  which  his  trousers  crept  far  above 
his  shoetops  whenever  he  sat  down  seem  in  the  least  im- 
portant, for  the  higher  stratas  of  Mr.  Marks 's  brain  had 
been  carefully  cultivated  to  the  entire  exclusion  of  all 
mundane  trifles.  He  then  took  from  the  window  the 
pot  of  hyacinths,  wrapped  it  carefully  in  newspaper, 
and  prepared  to  go  out. 

It  was  very  cold.  The  December  wind  penetrated 
to  the  marrow  of  his  bones,  while  the  paper  about  the 
hyacinths  fluttered  alarmingly  as  he  resolutely  forged 
his  way  across  Lafayette  Park,  regardless  of  the  fine, 
cold  rain  which  fell  steadily.  Finally  the  wind,  after 
pausing  for  an  instant,  rushed  down  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  and  through  the  park  with  renewed  vigor,  carry- 
ing with  it  Mr.  Marks 's  box-shaped  derby  as  well  as 
the  paper  about  the  flowers. 

The  hat  rolled  rapidly  down  the  path  with  Mr. 
Marks  in  hot  pursuit,  and  finally  brought  up  abruptly 
against  the  iron  railing  surrounding  the  statue  of  Jack- 
son on  his  rampant  steed.  Breathless,  but  triumphant, 
the  man  of  science  clutched  his  property.  He  also 
clutched  something  else.  A  flat  package  carefully 
wrapped  in  thick  brown  paper  had  taken  refuge  against 
the  railing,  and  he  tucked  it  securely  beneath  his  arm. 
'  Had  quite  a  chase,  didn't  you?"  remarked  the  park 
policeman  sympathetically,  readjusting  the  hyacinths, 
which  were  considerably  the  worse  for  the  run. 

"  He  might  'a'  had  a  civil  word  for  a  body,"  muttered 
that  functionary  as  Mr.  Marks  absently  marched  off 
without  replying. 

From  the  rear  of  General  Jackson  now  appeared  a 
second  wet,  wind-tossed  figure,  anxiously  scanning  the 
ground. 

6 


82  THE    WIFE    OF 

' '  I  say, ' '  it  remarked  abruptly,  "  I  've  lost  a  package, 
you  know.  Didn  't  happen  to  see  it,  did  you  ? ' ' 

' '  Was  it  flat  and  long  and  wrapped  in  brown  paper  ? ' ' 
inquired  the  policeman  deliberately. 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  the  figure  hurriedly,  ' '  yes,  that 's  it. ' ' 

"  T'other  chap  picked  it  up,"  said  the  arm  of  the 
law  indifferently;  "  he  went  that  a- way,"  pointing 
vaguely  towards  the  Avenue  and  resuming  his  measured 
pacing  to  and  fro  as  the  other  started  in  pursuit  of  the 
unconscious  Mr.  Marks. 

Having  made  the  circuit  of  the  park,  he  again  drew 
near  the  Jackson  statue  in  the  centre,  where  he  encoun- 
tered a  woman  wrapped  in  a  long,  dark  cloak  and  vainly 
trying  to  breast  the  buffeting  of  the  wind.  She  grasped 
the  iron  railing  for  support  as  she  accosted  him,  and  he 
observed  that  her  hand  was  small  and  daintily  gloved, 
although  her  face  was  completely  hidden  by  a  thick  veil. 

"  I  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  a  long,  flat 
package  wrapped  in  brown  paper,"  she  said  hastily; 
' '  perhaps  you  may  have  seen  it. ' ' 

The  policeman  was  getting  familiar  with  this  formula. 

"  You  aren't  the  only  one  that's  lost  such  a  bundle 
to-night,"  he  returned  curiously,  and  proceeded  to  give 
her  all  the  information  he  possessed. 

With  a  hasty  word  of  thanks  she  sped  away  in  the 
direction  indicated,  while  he  watched  her  fluttering 
draperies  disappear  in  the  distance. 

"Well,  I'm  blowed!"  he  ejaculated  fervently,  "I 
certainly  am  blowed ! ' ' 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Marks  pursued  the  even  tenor  of  his 
way,  totally  unconscious  of  having  annexed  another  per- 
son's  property. 

Christine  Gray  had  been  forced  to  leave  the  genteel 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  83 

shelter  of  Mrs.  Colson's  roof  for  a  cheaper  abiding-place, 
and  had  accordingly  transferred  herself  and  her  belong- 
ings to  a  house  within  the  limits  of  the  sixty  dollars  a 
month  which  must  provide  food  and  lodging  as  well  as 
raiment  for  an  apparently  indefinite  period.  Life  in 
the  War  Department,  with  the  recreation  and  bodily 
nourishment  afforded  by  a  second-class  boarding-house, 
was  not  a  particularly  healthy  existence  for  a  young 
and  pretty  girl,  but  Christine  as  yet  enjoyed  the  novelty 
of  being  closely  occupied,  and  might  be  said  to  rival 
even  the  little  busy  bee  of  copy-book  renown,  inasmuch 
as  she  had  so  far  managed  to  extract  honey  from  weeds 
as  well  as  flowers. 

On  this  particular  evening  she  had  perched  herself 
on  the  side  of  her  bed,  having  installed  her  sister  in  the 
one  comfortable  chair  the  room  contained,  after  forcibly 
depriving  her  of  her  hat  and  coat.  Mary  Gray  had 
lately  completed  her  course  of  training  at  a  large  hos- 
pital, and  the  rare  evenings  she  could  spend  with  her 
sister  were  highly  prized.  The  younger  girl  also  looked 
forward  eagerly  to  these  visits  and  had  settled  herself 
to  recount  even  the  most  minute  trifles  which  had 
occurred  since  their  last  meeting. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  she  exclaimed  dismally  as  Mr.  Marks 's 
card  was  handed  her,  ' '  to  think  he  should  come  to-night. 
Well,  I'll  be  just  as  stupid  and  quiet  as  I  can,  and  per- 
haps he  won 't  stay  long. ' ' 

Consequently  it  was  a  distraite  and  preoccupied  dam- 
sel who  listened  to  poor  Mr.  Marks 's  strenuous  efforts  to 
be  lively  and  agreeable.  In  vain  did  he  carelessly  glance 
at  the  card  of  memoranda  in  his  hand  and  laboriously 
introduce  one  subject  after  another.  Christine  was 
bored  and  showed  it  plainly,  and  Mr.  Marks  felt  that  as 


84  THE    WIFE    OF 

a  social  trifler  he  was  a  distinct  failure.  Not  yet  van- 
quished, however,  he  gave  a  most  unnecessary  hitch  to 
the  legs  of  his  trousers,  which  already  permitted  the 
display  of  fully  three  inches  of  stocking,  and  started  in 
afresh. 

"  Professor  Frisbane  asserted  the  other  day,  during 
a  brief  conversation  with  me,"  he  remarked  learnedly, 
"  that,  in  his  opinion,  direct  communication  with  the 
planet  Mars  was  a  mere  matter  of  time. ' ' 

"  Indeed?"  returned  Christine  vaguely,  and  silence 
ensued. 

"  I  have  been  deeply  interested  in  a  series  of  articles 
now  appearing  in  the  Scientific  American,"  volunteered 
Mr.  Marks  with  renewed  animation,  "  which  discuss  the 
subject  of  ossification  in  all  its  bearings.  I  will  be  glad 
to  lend  them  to  you. ' ' 

' '  No,  please  don 't, ' '  replied  Christine  hurriedly, — ' '  I 
mean,  I  have  not  any  time  for  reading. ' ' 

A  few  more  topics  of  general  interest  were  introduced 
by  the  gentleman  and  wet-blanketed  by  the  lady,  until 
at  last,  discouraged,  he  took  his  leave.  When  he  paused 
in  the  hall  to  put  on  his  overcoat  he  discovered  the  pot 
of  hyacinths  and  the  recently  acquired  package,  both  of 
which  he  had  entirely  forgotten.  Mr.  Marks  was  puzzled 
as  to  the  proper  course  to  pursue,  but  decided  to  act 
boldly.  Retreating  to  the  doorsteps,  he  rang  a  violent 
peal  at  the  bell,  and  when  the  maid  appeared  thrust  both 
plant  and  bundle  into  her  astonished  hands. 

"  For  Miss  Gray,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  with  my  com- 
pliments," and  promptly  disappeared. 

"  He  stayed  everlastingly,  Molly,"  remarked  Chris- 
tine, returning  to  find  her  sister  putting  on  her  hat, 
"  and  now  you're  going.  It's  too  bad." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  85 

"  Christine,"  said  Miss  Gray  as  she  buttoned  her 
coat,  ' '  where  did  you  get  those  roses  ? ' ' 

Christine  dimpled  and  glowed  as  she  touched  the  bowl 
of  red  roses  caressingly. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Rivers,"  she  replied,  "  and  oh,  Molly, 
he  has  been  so  nice.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  all  about  it. ' ' 

11  The  gentleman  who  has  just  left  sends  you  these 
with  his  compliments,  Miss,"  said  the  maid,  appearing 
suddenly. 

Christine  impatiently  pushed  the  flowers  on  one  side, 
but  curiously  untied  the  stout  twine  string  about  the 
package.  A  second  package  was  disclosed  closely  sealed 
and  labelled. 

"  R-double  o,"  spelled  Christine  slowly.  "  Oh,  it's 
just  those  old  papers  he  spoke  of.  As  though  I  wanted 
to  read  them." 

"  What  papers?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  remember,  Molly.  Rossification  or 
ossification  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Christine,"  remarked  her  sister,  slowly  drawing  on 
her  gloves,  ' '  I  believe  Mr.  Marks  is  a  good  man. ' ' 

'  Very  worthy,  indeed,"  returned  Christine  lightly. 
"  No  doubt  he  rocked  his  own  cradle  to  save  his  mother 
trouble.  But  it  don't  follow  that  I  have  to  read  his  old 
bundle  of  papers." 

Mary  kissed  her  sister  and  turned  to  depart,  but 
paused  a  moment,  her  hand  on  the  door-knob. 

"  Christine,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  don't  feel  com- 
fortable about  Mr.  Rivers.  One  hears  such  strange 
things  in  Washington.  Please  be  careful,  dear." 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Christine  equably,  "I'm  quite 
able  to  look  out  for  myself,  Molly.  And  then,  there's 
Harry." 


86  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Gray  as  she  closed  the  door,  "  to 
be  sure,  there's  Harry — in  Alaska." 

Christine,  left  alone,  hastened  to  put  the  blooming 
plant  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  window-sill. 

"  I  do  abominate  the  odor  of  white  hyacinths,"  she 
remarked  as  she  lowered  the  shade. 

She  then  proceeded  to  clip  the  stems  of  the  roses  and 
put  them  into  fresh  water,  lingering  over  the  task  as 
though  she  liked  it  and  humming  a  merry  little  tune. 
This  done,  she  once  more  picked  up  the  despised  package 
and  balanced  it  on  her  fingers. 

"  Shall  I  open  it?"  she  deliberated. 

The  drawer  of  the  bureau  was  partly  open,  displaying 
laces,  handkerchiefs,  gloves,  and  ribbons  in  hopeless  con- 
fusion. With  a  contemptuous  motion  she  tossed  the 
package  in  also. 

"  So  much  for  that,"  she  exclaimed  aloud.  "  If  he 
wants  them  again,  he  can  come  for  them.  I  don 't  expect 
to  waste  my  time  reading  them." 

Christine  now  seated  herself  before  the  mirror  and 
carefully  studied  the  face  that  was  reflected  therein. 
She  noted  the  brown  hair  which  lay  in  little,  soft 
rings  about  the  low,  white  forehead;  the  large  brown 
eyes  which  smiled  back  at  her  through  a  fringe  of  long, 
curled  lashes ;  the  rounded  cheek,  tinted  like  a  shell ; 
the  little,  rosy  ears  and  the  dimpled  mouth.  And 
Christine  lighted  another  gas-jet  that  she  might  have  a 
better  view. 

After  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  mirror  she  rose  and 
yawned  sleepily. 

"  I  ought  to  write  to  Harry,"  she  remarked  as  she 
put  her  face  into  the  bowl  of  roses  and  inhaled  their 
perfume,  "  but  I'm  so  sleepy  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  87 

And  I  forgot  to  tell  Molly  about  the  theatre  too,  but  I 
guess  it's  all  right;  anyhow,  I'm  going." 

And  in  his  hall  bedroom  at  Mrs.  Colson's  Mr.  Marks 
was  also  seated  before  his  mirror.  The  treatise  upon 
the  evolution  of  the  monkey  into  the  man  lay  face  down- 
ward upon  the  floor,  and  the  ink  had  long  since  dried 
upon  the  pen  thrust  behind  his  ear. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said  aloud,  "  that  it  is  a  man's  duty 
to  personally  investigate  all  phases  of  life  in  order  to 
thoroughly  understand  existence.  I  shall  begin  with  the 
social. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  ran  his  fingers  rapidly  through  his  upright 
locks  and  caressed  the  shadowy  little  whiskers  which 
adorned  the  turning-point  of  the  jaw-bone. 

"  I  don't  see,"  he  remarked  reflectively,  removing  his 
black  cravat,  "  but  that  I  am  as  good  looking  as  most 
men. ' ' 


88  THE    WIFE    OF 


IX 


NOT  far  from  the  White  House,  almost  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Department  of  State,  stands  an  old  brick  house 
whose  many-sided  walls  could,  if  they  desired,  tell 
strange  stories  of  the  past,  and  perhaps  of  the  present 
also,  for  who  knows  what  comedies  and  tragedies  are 
transpiring  every  day  at  our  very  doorsteps? 

It  is  the  Octagon  House,  a  bit  of  the  history  of  Wash- 
ington— a  house  of  memories ;  a  house  of  shadows.  For 
many  years  it  was  untenanted  and  deserted  save  by  a 
well-authenticated  ghost — a  most  unsociable  ghost,  who 
preferred  solitude  to  the  best  society  and  made  night  a 
thing  of  terror  to  curious  adventurers.  At  the  present 
time,  however,  the  lower  floors  are  used  during  the  day 
by  the  Society  of  American  Architects,  and  the  chance 
visitor  is  shown  over  it  by  the  janitor,  who  inhabits  the 
top  floor,  if  the  latter  happens  to  be  at  home  and 
obligingly  disposed.  He  displays  the  secret  doors,  now, 
alas !  with  latches  and  obtrusive  hinges ;  the  unexpected 
closets  and  mysterious  hallways;  the  subterranean  pas- 
sage through  which  persons  well  known  to  history  passed 
and  repassed  during  the  troubled  days  of  1812 ;  persons 
unknown  to  history  are  also  said  to  have  had  business 
which  led  them  through  this  passage,  and  imagination 
runs  rampant  as  one  explores  the  short  bit  that  escaped 
the  renovation  of  Eighteenth  Street.  One  gazes  with  a 
feeling  of  awe  into  the  room  where  the  treaty  of  peace 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  89 

was  signed,  and  with  interest  at  the  room  where  Dolly 
Madison  slept  during  the  days  the  British  were  in  the 
Capitol  City  and  the  White  House  too  dangerous  for  a 
woman.  But  the  visitor  is  not  yet  satisfied. 

"  Was  there  not,"  he  asks  curiously,  "  some  tragedy 
connected  with  the  house,  or  with  the  old  Virginian  who 
built  it?" 

And  then  perhaps  he  hears  the  story  of  the  Octoroon, 
whose  uneasy  spirit  escapes  at  night  from  the  wall  where 
she  was  incarcerated  and  moves  restlessly  about  the  silent 
rooms  looking  for  her  murderer;  or  the  slave  locked  in 
the  attic,  who  starved  rather  than  submit;  or  the  bride 
who  jumped  from  the  top  of  the  spiral  staircase ;  or — 

But  the  visitor  has  heard  enough  and  departs,  glad  to 
get  back  into  the  noise  and  sunshine  of  everyday  life. 
Perhaps,  though,  he  pauses  at  the  front  door  and  looks 
back.  Looks  through  the  circular  hall  and  out  the  win- 
dow opposite  into  the  neglected  old  walled  garden,  and 
imagines  it  again  rose-scented,  with  trim,  box-bordered 
paths  and  close-clipped  turf.  He  sees  the  rooms  ablaze 
with  light,  echoing  to  careless  laughter  and  the  tap  of 
dancing  feet ;  he  sees  the  host  with  courtly  manners  and 
true  Southern  hospitality,  but  withal  hot-tempered  and 
revengeful ;  and  also  in  the  background  he  sees  the  Octo- 
roon. And  as  he  slowly  walks  up  the  street  he  wonders, 
be  he  never  so  matter  of  fact,  what  happens  there  at 
night  when  the  doors  and  windows  are  closed;  if— 
But  he  shrugs  his  shoulders  incredulously  as  he  hails 
a  passing  car  and  straightway  forgets  all  about  it. 

On  a  certain  wet  December  evening,  however,  nothing 
supernatural  would  have  been  observed  about  the  Octa- 
gon House  had  one  plucked  up  courage  to  venture  in. 
On  the  contrary,  a  no  less  thoroughly  alive  person  than 


90  THE    WIFE    OP 

Count  Valdmir  sat  in  the  old  dining-room  and,  with  the 
assistance  of  his  friend,  Colonel  St.  John,  carefully  ex- 
amined a  map  spread  out  before  them  upon  a  rough 
deal  table,  for  the  architects  were  not  yet  in  possession 
and  furniture  was  limited.  Heat  and  light  were  appar- 
ently limited  also,  for  they  wore  their  overcoats  and 
shivered  now  and  then  with  the  penetrating  damp  of 
the  place,  while  two  candles  in  tin  candlesticks  did  their 
best  to  accentuate  the  surrounding  darkness,  for 
although  it  was  but  a  little  after  six  o'clock  the  shades 
of  night  had  settled  over  the  city  some  time  since  and 
now  held  undisturbed  sway  everywhere.  The  two  men 
sat  side  by  side  that  they  might  both  look  at  the  map; 
their  faces  were  towards  the  hall,  the  door  leading  into 
which  was  carefully  closed,  and  with  only  the  blank  wall 
behind  them. 

There  was  an  alertness  about  Colonel  St.  John  notice- 
ably different  from  his  former  manner;  his  hair  was 
brushed  and  he  had  again  returned  to  his  razor  with 
consequent  improvement  in  his  personal  appearance. 
His  voice  too  had  lost  the  thin,  unpleasant  whine,  and 
altogether  he  gave  the  impression  of  a  man  who  has 
again  some  interest  in  life ;  the  trembling  of  his  hands, 
however,  and  a  shifty  expression  in  his  bloodshot  eyes 
betrayed  the  habitual  drunkard. 

' '  Is  this  the  best  you  can  do  ? "  inquired  Count  Vald- 
mir abruptly  as  he  scanned  the  map  critically,  while  his 
companion  watched  him  with  keen  anxiety. 

"  I  had  so  little  data  on  which  to  work,"  was  the  de- 
precating reply;  "  I  did  the  best  I  could." 

"  But  it  is  not  reliable?" 

"  Perhaps  not  entirely." 

"  Explain  again  as  concisely  as  possible." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  91 

The  old  man  leaned  forward,  his  shaking  finger  indi- 
cating on  the  map  the  points  to  which  he  referred. 

"  This,"  he  said  slowly,  "  is  the  mouth  of  the  Poto- 
mac ;  I  could  not  go  below  that,  naturally. ' ' 

Count  Valdmir  nodded  impatiently,  and  he  continued 
slowly : 

"  Here  are  the  outer  defences  of  Washington,  Fort 
Hunt  and  Fort  Washington;  their  garrisons  are  noted 
on  the  margin ;  these  stars  show  the  locations  of  their 
batteries.  This  information  is  tentative  merely;  I  had 
no  opportunity  to  verify  it.  These  red  squares  indicate 
the  beds  of  submarine  mines,  also  tentative,  but  pre- 
sumably accurate." 

"  Nothing  absolute,"  interrupted  Count  Valdmir, 
"  nothing  reliable.  Doubtful  information,  Colonel,  is 
sometimes  worse  than  none  at  all." 

Colonel  St.  John 's  trembling  finger  followed  the  course 
of  the  river  upon  the  map. 

"  Here,"  he  continued,  "  is  the  Arsenal.  I  have  a 
separate  plan  of  it  in  my  pocket  drawn  to  scale,  setting 
forth  the  strength  and  location  of  all  the  batteries  in 
great  detail.  This  information  is  not  tentative;  I 
drew  the  plan  myself  from  personal  observation  and 
know  it  to  be  correct.  There  are  improvements  in  pro- 
cess of  erection  there,  and  I  had  private  access  to  the 
grounds. ' ' 

He  produced  a  sketch  as  he  spoke  and  the  two  bent 
over  it  with  interest. 

"  How  did  you  get  this  information,  Colonel?"  in- 
quired Count  Valdmir  suddenly. 

Colonel  St.  John  smiled.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  smile, 
and  his  bushy  eyebrows  were  drawn  together  over  his 
bleared  blue  eyes. 


92  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  have  an  acquaintance  employed  in  the  War  De- 
partment," he  said  slowly,  "  who  was  kind  enough  to 
show  me  around  one  day.  He  had  access  to  the  files; 
also  he  owes  me  much  money. ' ' 

Count  Valdmir  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"  The  result  of  an  evening  or  so  at  Jackson  City,"  he 
said  suavely.  "  I  understand.  Proceed,  Colonel,  you 
interest  me." 

"  He  is  willing  to  oblige  me  in  various  little  ways," 
continued  the  old  man  quietly,  "  because  if  I  pressed 
my  claim  and  brought  the  matter  before  the  authorities 
he  would  probably  be  discharged.  It  is  thus  a  great 
Republic  insures  the  integrity  of  its  employes." 

The  rain  dashed  suddenly  against  the  window  and  the 
shrunken  frames  rattled  with  the  force  of  the  wind. 
Count  Valdmir  turned  up  the  sable  collar  of  his  coat 
and  glanced  about  curiously. 

"  So  this  is  the  house,"  he  said  slowly. 

His  companion  acquiesced  silently. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,"  he  said  at  last,  "  many  years 
ago,  Count,  I  lived  in  Washington,  in  this  immediate 
neighborhood.  I  know  the  house  and  its  history  well." 

"  It  was  an  admirable  selection,  Colonel,  and  reflects 
credit  on  your  judgment. ' ' 

"  When  I  applied  for  the  position  of  caretaker,"  said 
Colonel  St.  John  with  a  dry  smile,  "  I  had  no  difficulty 
in  securing  the  billet ;  it  was  not  in  demand. ' ' 

"  What  is  that?"  said  Count  Valdmir  abruptly. 

Both  men  sprang  to  their  feet  and  listened  breath- 
lessly. Only  the  splashing  of  the  rain  and  the  trot  of  a 
passing  horse  broke  the  stillness. 

"  I  could  swear,"  exclaimed  Count  Valdmir,  "  that 
I  heard  the  rustle  of  a  woman 's  skirts. ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  93 

"  I  heard  nothing,"  returned  his  companion  slowly — 
"nothing." 

"  You  must  have  heard  it.  The  sound  of  silk  is  un- 
mistakable. ' ' 

Colonel  St.  John  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  are  not  the  first,  Count,  to  hear  strange  noises 
in  this  house.  I  am  not  superstitious  myself,  but  I  do 
not  sleep  here.  I  prefer  Jackson  City." 

The  Russian  resumed  his  chair  and  took  up  the  sketch 
of  the  Arsenal,  examining  it  minutely. 

"  For  how  long  are  you  capable  of  keeping  sober?" 
he  inquired  suddenly. 

The  old  man  shrank  visibly,  a  cringing  manner  re- 
placing the  faint  assumption  of  manliness,  and  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth  working  miserably. 

' '  Not  long, ' '  he  faltered  uncertainly,  ' '  not  long.  I  'm 
an  old  man,  Count,  and  not  strong.  I  must  have 
stimulant. ' ' 

"  This  sketch,"  continued  Count  Valdmir,  carefully 
rolling  it  as  he  spoke,  "  is  excellent.  I  want  more  of 
them.  Also  I  want  other  information.  I  shall  get  you 
appointed  in  the  Department  of  State.  But  you  must 
keep  sober,  do  you  understand?" 

"  For  how  long?" 

'  Until  I  have  no  further  use  for  you,  which  I  fear, 
Colonel,  from  the  turn  aflairs  have  taken  lately,  will  be 
some  months.  Once  a  week,  or  oftener  if  necessary,  I 
will  meet  you  here.  Meantime,  in  the  evenings  you  can 
continue  your  chicken  raising  at  Jackson  City ;  perhaps 
you  have  other  friends  employed  in  the  War  Department 
who  would  be  willing  to  oblige  you.  If  so,  cultivate 
them." 

"  And   what   do   I   get   for   this   service?"   inquired 


94  THE    WIFE    OF 

Colonel  St.  John,  a  keen,  calculating  expression  for  a 
moment  lighting  up  his  dim  eyes. 

"  When  the  work  is  satisfactorily  completed,"  replied 
Count  Valdmir  slowly,  "  you  will  receive  from  my 
Government  an  adequate  compensation.  From  me  you 
obtain  your  personal  safety.  The  day  is  past,  Colonel, 
when  you  could  dictate  your  own  terms. ' ' 

The  muscles  of  the  old  man's  face  were  twitching 
uncontrollably.  He  leaned  forward  and  moistened  his 
parched  lips  with  his  tongue. 

"  I  saw  him  yesterday,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Lyndhurst?" 

He  nodded. 

"  He  turned  and  looked  after  me,"  he  continued, 
dropping  his  voice  still  lower.  "  I  believe  he  followed 
me,  although  I  did  not  look  around.  He  never  saw  me 
but  once,  yet  I  think  he  remembers  me. ' ' 

"  If  he  finds  you,"  said  Count  Valdmir  with  a  short 
laugh,  "  your  days  of  liberty  and  usefulness  are  over. 
However,  let  us  return  to  business.  Are  you  familiar 
with  the  present  international  controversy?" 

' '  I  have  some  knowledge  of  it. ' ' 

"  Good!  You  recall  the  Rootschook  muddle?  Well, 
it  is  necessary  that  I  ascertain  the  policy  of  this  Gov- 
ernment in  regard  to  it.  I  desire  the  entire  history  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that 
the  most  important  papers  will  soon  be  in  my  possession, 
but  there  will  be  others  of  great  value.  Now,  follow 
closely  what  I  say;  I  wish  your  whole  attention, 
Colonel." 

And  Colonel  St.  John,  with  a  visible  effort,  concen- 
trated his  wandering  thoughts  and  listened  intently  as 
his  companion  spoke  slowly  and  concisely,  carefully  em- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  95 

phasizing  certain  words  and  instinctively  lowering  his 
voice,  while  the  candles  on  the  table  spluttered  in  the 
draught  from  the  loose  casing  about  the  window,  and 
the  gnawing  of  a  mouse  in  the  empty  hall  seemed  pain- 
fully distinct. 

Suddenly  Count  Valdmir  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  There  is  someone  else  in  this  house!"  he  exclaimed 
angrily.  "  Who  is  it?" 

' '  There  is  no  one,  Count. ' ' 

"  I  tell  you  I  felt  someone  look  across  my  shoulder 
as  we  bent  over  the  table  just  now.  I  even  heard  some- 
one breathe. ' ' 

He  clutched  his  companion  by  the  shoulder  and  held 
him  as  though  in  a  vice. 

' '  By  Heaven ! "  he  said  through  his  clinched  teeth, ' '  if 
I  thought  you  were  playing  a  double  game — 

But  the  ashen  face  and  trembling  limbs  of  the  old 
man  refuted  the  accusation  even  better  than  the  eager 
protestations  which  poured  from  his  lips,  and  the  utter 
absence  of  anything  to  break  the  monotony  of  mouldy 
walls  and  bare  boards,  save  their  own  two  wooden  chairs 
and  deal  table,  demonstrated  the  impossibility  of  con- 
cealment. 

"  Well,"  said  Count  Valdmir,  releasing  his  compan- 
ion, "  I  believe  you,  Colonel,  and  it  is  fortunate  for  you 
that  I  do.  When  I  begin  to  doubt  you  I  shall  have  no 
scruples  about  informing  the  police  of  your  where- 
abouts." He  picked  up  his  hat  and  smoothed  it  care- 
fully. 

"  I  will  go  now,"  he  remarked,  "  as  I  have  another 
engagement  before  dinner.  A  busy  evening,  but  profit- 
able. Good-night,  Colonel." 

Colonel  St.  John  accompanied  his  guest  to  the  front 


96  THE    WIFE    OF 

door  and  stood  a  moment  watching  him  descend  the 
steps.  As  he  turned  to  reenter  the  house  the  candle  in 
his  hand  suddenly  went  out,  leaving  the  hall  in  total 
darkness.  He  carefully  groped  his  way  towards  the 
dining-room,  but  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Who  is  here?"  he  demanded.    "  Who  is  it,  I  say?" 

There  was  an  instant's  intense  silence,  then  the  sound 
of  quick,  panting  breath  and  a  sudden  blast  of  cold  air. 

Colonel  St.  John  stumbled  forward  and  pushed  open 
the  dining-room  door.  Grasping  the  remaining  candle, 
he  returned  to  the  hall ;  it  was  quite  empty,  but  the  door 
at  the  back,  leading  into  the  garden,  stood  open  and  the 
wind  blew  it  back  and  forth  upon  its  creaking  hinges. 
He  closed  it  hastily,  turning  the  rusty  key  with  diffi- 
culty, and  retraced  his  steps  to  the  dining-room.  Half- 
way across  the  hall  he  stopped  irresolutely;  the  atmos- 
phere was  filled  with  a  subtle  perfume  very  different 
from  the  musty  air  he  had  previously  inhaled.  Colonel 
St.  John  sniffed  curiously,  then  reached  for  his  hat ;  in 
his  younger  days  he  had  not  been  deficient  in  physical 
courage,  but  he  lost  no  time  in  seeking  the  street,  and 
drew  a  breath  of  heartfelt  relief  as  he  closed  the  door  of 
the  Octagon  House  behind  him. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  old  garden  the  water  lay  in  little 
pools  upon  the  neglected  flower-beds  and  the  paths  were 
inch  deep  with  sticky  black  mud.  It  was  not  an  attrac- 
tive place  for  an  evening  stroll,  yet  an  irregular  line  of 
footsteps  showed  that  someone  had  recently  passed 
through,  presumably  taking  a  short  cut  from  one  street 
to  the  other.  These  footsteps  had  evidently  been  made 
by  a  man  of  at  least  average  height,  and  they  led  directly 
to  the  gap  in  the  old  brick  wall  at  the  back  of  the 
garden.  Sticking  in  the  mud  at  the  base  of  the  wall  was 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  97 

an  overshoe,  small  and  lined  with  fur — a  shoe  such  as 
ladies  wear  over  their  slippers  when  in  evening  dress. 
It  did  not  seem  applicable  to  the  footprints  in  the 
garden. 


98  THE    WIFE    OF 


X 


SENATOR  BYRD  was  giving  a  dinner  and  was  conscious 
that  it  dragged  heavily.  As  the  guests  were  carefully 
selected,  food  and  wine  unexceptionable,  and  the  serving 
beyond  criticism,  the  Senator  was  puzzled. 

The  Secretary  of  State  had  arrived  alone,  bearing  Mrs. 
Redmond's  apologies;  she  was  prostrated  by  a  severe 
headache  and  quite  unable  to  be  present.  The  Hon.  Cecil 
Lyndhurst,  for  whom  the  dinner  was  given,  had  been 
unexpectedly,  unaccountably  late,  and  had  not,  in  the 
Senator's  opinion,  offered  good  and  sufficient  reason  for 
this  breach  of  etiquette. 

Then  too  Isabel  added  to  her  father's  annoyance  by 
not  appearing  until  after  dinner  was  announced,  wear- 
ing a  gown  of  which  he  had  expressed  emphatic  disap- 
proval, and  subsiding  into  utter  silence  as  she  took  her 
place  between  Monsieur  du  Pre  and  Mr.  Rivers.  The 
Senator's  brows  darkened  as  he  observed  the  listless 
manner  of  his  daughter  and  the  forced  animation  of  his 
guests.  He  liked  conversation  at  his  dinners  to  be  spon- 
taneous and  laughter  genuine,  and  could  detect  the  real 
article  immediately. 

Mrs.  Chesley,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  was  totally  un- 
conscious of  her  brother's  chagrin.  To  her  the  dinner 
was  much  like  many  others;  her  purple  velvet  was 
highly  satisfactory  and  the  canvas-backs  cooked  to  a 
turn.  What  more  could  be  desired?  Therefore,  when 
she  felt  his  eye  fixed  upon  her  she  returned  his  gaze  of 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  99 

gloomy  disapproval  with  a  smile  so  vapid  and  vacuous 
that  it  proved  the  last  straw  to  the  harassed  Senator. 
Bestowing  a  frown  upon  his  innocent  sister  which  caused 
her  to  drop  her  fork  in  astonishment,  he  turned  hastily 
to  the  lady  on  his  right  and  endeavored  to  sustain  his 
reputation  of  a  genial  and  delightful  host,  but  she  was 
afterwards  heard  to  remark  that  she  had  rarely  been  so 
bored,  and  considered  Senator  Byrd  a  much  overrated 
person. 

Monsieur  du  Pre  and  Mr.  Rivers  only  were  unaffected 
by  the  depressed  atmosphere.  The  former  was  making  a 
very  substantial  meal  indeed,  and  the  latter  seemed  ex- 
hilarated but  self-absorbed.  After  one  or  two  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  to  engage  Isabel  in  conversation  he  relapsed 
into  a  preoccupied  silence,  totally  oblivious  of  his  other 
neighbor,  who  finally  turned  her  white  shoulder  very 
markedly  towards  him  and  pointedly  ignored  his  prox- 
imity. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Lyndhurst,"  remarked  Mrs.  Chesley 
in  the  patronizing  manner  a  certain  type  of  person 
usually  adopts  towards  a  foreigner,  ' '  what  is  your  opin- 
ion of  Washington?" 

' '  I  have  found  it  altogether  delightful,  Mrs.  Chesley. ' ' 

"  Of  course,"  she  resumed,  helping  herself  to  salted 
almonds,  "  you  have  been  to  the  Capitol.  How  do  our 
House  and  Senate  compare  with  your  Parliament,  for 
instance  ? ' ' 

"  What  particularly  impressed  me  with  the  House  of 
Representatives,"  interrupted  Monsieur  du  Pre,  "  is 
the  freedom  of  speech  permitted  its  members. ' ' 

"All  men  are  born  free  and  equal,"  responded  Mr. 
Rivers,  rousing  himself  abruptly;  "  that  is  our  Decla- 
ration, you  know." 


100  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  went  down  there,"  continued  Monsieur  du  Pre 
discursively,  "  to  listen  to  a  debate.  I  found  two  gen- 
tlemen gesticulating  and  both  talking  at  once;  they 
grew  more  irate  every  moment  and  finally  one  shook  his 
fist  at  the  other.  I  thought  pistols  imminent,  and  felt 
sure  the  friendship  of  a  lifetime  was  irrevocably  broken, 
for  I  had  often  seen  them  together.  I  thought  how  sad 
it  was  such  things  could  happen.  Then,  what  followed? 
As  I  left  the  Capitol  that  afternoon  I  saw  the  same  two 
gentlemen  strolling  down  the  steps  before  me,  arm-in- 
arm; they  laughted  and  chatted,  evidently  in  the  best 
of  spirits,  and  made  an  engagement  to  dine  together  that 
evening.  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  know  one  of  them, 
so  I  approached  him  after  they  had  separated  and  ex- 
pressed my  pleasure  that  the  breach  was  so  quickly 
healed." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Rivers,  as  the  little  Frenchman 
paused  for  breath,  "  well,  what  then?" 

"  He  looked  at  me  in  astonishment  and  inquired  what 
I  meant ;  I  explained  I  had  been  in  the  Diplomatic  Gal- 
lery of  the  House  that  afternoon  and  had  heard  with 
sorrow  the  bitter  dispute.  He  immediately  drew  himself 
up  very  tall  and  erect  and  looked  over  my  head.  '  I  vote 
and  argue  for  the  good  of  my  district,'  he  said  very 
stiffly,  '  but,  by  Gad,  sir,  I  choose  my  own  friends. '  ' 

"  And  that,"  said  Senator  Byrd,  laughing,  "  is  a 
privilege  claimed  by  most  men,  I  believe,  regardless  of 
country. ' ' 

Mrs.  Chesley  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  as  though  she 
could  dispute  this  point  if  she  desired,  and  admired  her 
rings  as  they  caught  the  light;  she  thought  she  might 
perhaps  have  added  the  hoop  of  rubies,  after  all,  without 
overloading  her  fingers. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          101 

Isabel  played  with  her  fork,  sending  course  after 
course  away  untouched,  and  was  plainly  relieved  when 
dinner  came  to  an  end  and  she  could  retire  to  the  piano 
in  the  drawing-room,  whither  Lyndhurst  speedily  fol- 
lowed. 

Isabel  was  playing  softly,  her  red-gold  hair  gleaming 
under  the  chandelier  and  her  gray  eyes  persistently  low- 
ered. The  young  Englishman  watched  her  in  silence. 
Fate  had  thrown  them  frequently  together  since  Mrs. 
Redmond's  ball,  and  this  particular  type  of  American 
continued  to  interest  him  greatly. 

"  There  is  something  on  your  gown,"  he  exclaimed 
suddenly,  ' '  allow  me. ' ' 

Taking  out  his  handkerchief  he  brushed  her  skirt 
lightly.  The  black  spot  on  its  gauzy,  pale-blue  surface 
remained  unchanged  and  a  hasty  movement  on  her  part 
disclosed  another  and  larger  discolored  place  at  the  edge 
of  her  satin  petticoat.  Dropping  his  handkerchief,  he 
touched  it  with  his  finger,  then  glanced  up  quickly.  The 
skirt  was  stained  by  mud  and  water  and  still  very  wet. 

Isabel  twitched  it  from  him  and  brought  her  hands 
down  upon  the  keys  tumultuously. 

"Yes,  it's  wet,"  she  said  defiantly,  as  though  chal- 
lenging inquiry. 

The  Hon.  Cecil  was  puzzled.  The  girl  was  evidently 
excited,  as  her  unnaturally  bright  eyes  and  the  color 
which  came  and  went  so  fitfully  indisputably  demon- 
strated. Also,  he  believed,  she  was  not  far  from  a 
nervous  collapse.  He  had  sisters  of  his  own  and  knew 
there  are  times  when  very  deft  handling  is  necessary  if 
one  would  avoid  trouble.  So  he  stroked  his  fair  mus- 
tache affectionately  and  reflected  carefully  before 
speaking. 


102  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  There's  a  jolly  little  room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs," 
he  remarked  suggestively  at  last;  "  I  noticed  it  as  I 
came  in.  It  is  very  nice  and  quiet  and  the  chairs  looked 
uncommonly  comfortable. ' ' 

* '  My  sitting-room, ' '  said  Isabel  with  a  gasp  of  relief ; 
' '  yes,  let  us  go  there. ' ' 

"  Miss  Byrd,"  he  said  quietly  as  they  entered  the 
room  and  he  drew  forward  a  low  chair,  "  will  you  not 
have  a  glass  of  wine?  You  ate  no  dinner — I  sat  oppo- 
site, you  know " 

Isabel  swept  her  skirts  about  her  with  a  hasty  move- 
ment which  brought  the  wet  spot  again  into  prominence. 

"  It  was  horrid  in  you  to  notice  it,"  she  said  petu- 
lantly—" horrid." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  apologized  contritely,  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  vex  you. ' ' 

But  Isabel  was  not  yet  appeased. 

"  Look  at  that  muddy  place  on  your  shoe,"  she  con- 
tinued reproachfully.  "  I  saw  it,  but  I  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  call  the  attention  of  the  whole  room  to  it. 
And  there  is  some  on  your  cuff  too. ' ' 

It  was  quite  true.  Upon  the  heel  of  his  patent-leather 
shoe  freshly  dried  mud  was  thickly  plastered;  also  a 
large  spot  marred  the  under  side  of  an  otherwise  immac- 
ulate cuff. 

"  It's  just  as  black  as  the  place  on  my  skirt,"  con- 
tinued Isabel,  who  evidently  agreed  with  the  theory  that 
the  best  mode  of  defence  is  by  attack,  "  and  (perhaps 
you  don't  know  it)  there  is  quite  a  long  splash  on  the 
back  of  your  coat;  the  servants  should  have  brushed 
you,  of  course,  but  I  suppose  you  came  so  late  they  had 
not  tune. ' ' 

The  Hon.  Cecil  gravely  examined  his  cuff. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          103 

"  They  do  match,  don't  they?"  he  remarked  pleas- 
antly, comparing  it  with  the  stain  on  her  skirt. 

"  On  the  whole,"  she  resumed  triumphantly, — "  on 
the  whole,  Mr.  Lyndhurst,  you  are  more  spotted  than  I." 

Isabel  touched  her  skirt  gingerly. 

"  I  think  it  is  drying  a  little,  don't  you?"  she  in- 
quired anxiously. 

A  ripple  of  laughter  from  the  drawing-room  floated 
up  the  stairs,  and  a  servant  entered  with  a  tray  contain- 
ing small  cups  of  black  coffee.  Isabel  took  one  and  drank 
it  eagerly,  while  her  companion,  holding  his  cup  in  his 
hand,  toyed  absently  with  the  spoon  and  watched  her; 
his  eyes  were  troubled  as  well  as  puzzled  and,  notwith- 
standing the  composure  of  his  manner,  it  was  evident 
he  was  holding  himself  well  in  hand. 

"  You  see,"  said  Isabel  with  an  effort,  "  just  before 
dinner,  after  I  was  dressed  and  ready,  I  heard  of  a 
friend  who — who  was  in  trouble,  and,  of  course,  I 
wanted  to  help — it.  And  I  did  not  want  anyone  to 
know.  And  now  this  horrid  stain,  and — and  every- 
thing." 

"  I  hope,"  he  said  gently,  "  you  were  able  to  assist 
your  friend." 

"  No,"  she  replied  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  "  that's 
just  it.  I  didn't  help  at  all.  I — I  fear  I  did  harm  by 
going.  But  I  meant  well." 

Her  voice  shook  slightly  in  spite  of  her  effort  to  con- 
trol it,  and  she  pushed  her  cup  aside  on  the  small  table 
beside  her  and  groped  vainly  for  her  handkerchief. 

"  I  wish  you'd  look  the  other  way,"  she  exclaimed 
impatiently,  "  I  hate  to  be  stared  at." 

The  Hon.  Cecil  was  conscious  that  he  could  not  hold 
himself  quite  as  well  in  check  as  he  had  believed ;  he  felt 


104  THE    WIFE    OF 

a  sudden  and  irresistible  desire  to  put  his  arm  about  the 
slender  figure  and  wipe  the  tears  from  the  long  lashes. 
He  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  her  hair  brushed 
against  his  cheek  as  he  stooped  over  her. 

"  Don't  cry,"  he  whispered,  "  it  hurts  me.  Don't 
cry — Isabel. ' ' 

Isabel  rolled  her  handkerchief  into  a  moist  little  ball 
and  rose  suddenly. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh  which  was  half  a  sob,  "  that  this  afternoon  Mr. 
Rivers  asked  me  to  marry  him  and  I  said  I  would.  I 
thought  you  might  be  interested. ' ' 

He  released  her  hand  and  straightened  himself  sud- 
denly. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  he  said  slowly.  "  You  were 
right,  I  am — interested." 

"  It  will  be  quite  a  long  engagement,"  she  continued, 
her  fingers  nervously  interlocked — "  a  year,  I  hope;  I 
mean,  of  course,  I  hope  the  wedding  will  be  in  a  year's 
time.  But  then  one  can  never  tell  what  may  happen. " 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  he  said  again,  "  Mr.  Rivers  is 
a  very  brilliant  man.  I  have  heard  him  mentioned  as 
a  possible  member  of  the  next  Cabinet. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know.  And  father  is  pleased 
too;  they  are  friends,  although  Mr.  Rivers  is  much 
younger.  Shall  we  return  to  the  drawing-room  ?  And — 
Mr.  Lyndhurst " 

"Yes,  MissByrd." 

"  Please  forget  how  foolish  I  have  been  to-night.  I 
am  very  well,  and,  of  course,  very  happy.  I  was  a  little 
nervous,  I  think,  and  I  fear  I  was  rude  when  you  only 
meant  to  be  kind ;  please  forgive  me.  And  please  also 
forget  everything,  will  you  ? ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          105 

"  There  is  nothing  to  remember,  Miss  Byrd,  except 
what  you  have  just  told  me." 

The  guests  were  preparing  to  take  their  leave  as  they 
returned  to  the  drawing-room,  and  Isabel,  with  some 
compunctions  of  conscience,  endeavored  to  perform  a  few 
neglected  duties  in  regard  to  entertaining  her  father's 
friends. 

The  Secretary  of  State  was  the  first  to  depart.  He 
drew  her  aside  with  a  whispered  word  of  congratulation 
and  watched  her  face  keenly  as  they  talked. 

"  Your  father  told  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I  want  to  be 
the  first  to  wish  you  the  happiness  you  deserve.  I  was 
astonished,  Isabel ;  you  have  kept  your  friends  com- 
pletely in  the  dark,  my  dear." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  forehead,  taking  her  face 
between  his  hands  and  looking  earnestly  into  her  gray 
eyes. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear,"  he  said  gently.  "  May 
you  be  as  happy  as  Estelle  and  I.  There  can  be  no  better 
fortune  in  life  for  you  than  that.  Good-night. ' ' 

The  Secretary  drove  quickly  home  through  the  wet 
streets  and  went  at  once  to  Mrs.  Redmond's  dressing- 
room.  She  half  rose  from  the  couch  as  he  approached 
and  held  out  both  hands  in  welcome. 

'  It's  perfectly  absurd,  of  course,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  laugh,  "  but  when  you  go  anywhere  without  me 
I  'm  wretched  until  you  come  back. ' ' 

The  flowing  lace  sleeve  of  her  white  dressing-gown  fell 
away  from  her  rounded  arm,  with  its  faint  tracery  of 
blue  veins;  the  Secretary  liked  to  follow  their  course 
with  the  tip  of  his  finger  and  also  to  hold  the  small  white 
hand  which  wore  the  plain  gold  band  and  lay  so  willingly 
in  his. 


106  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Was  the  evening  very  long?"  he  inquired  tenderly. 
"  Poor  little  girl!  And  how  is  the  head?" 

"  It  is  really  better,  John — almost  well,  in  fact.  Tell 
me  about  the  dinner;  I  was  especially  sorry  not  to  go 
with  you  to-night." 

"  Well,"  he  returned  reflectively,  "  you  did  not  miss 
very  much.  It  was  deadly  dull,  absolutely  the  only 
stupid  dinner  I  ever  knew  Byrd  to  give. ' ' 

' '  Tell  me  who  was  there  and  all  about  it. ' ' 

So  he  told  her  all  the  little  details  he  knew  she  wished 
to  hear,  and  she  listened  attentively,  occasionally  laugh- 
ing at  some  anecdote  or  interrupting  with  some  trivial 
question,  while  outside  the  wind  increased  in  violence 
and  rain  splashed  against  the  windows,  running  down 
the  panes  in  little  rivers  and  forming  small  ponds  upon 
the  stone  sill,  thus  accentuating  the  warmth  and  color 
of  the  rose-tinted  room. 

He  pressed  his  cheek  to  hers  as  he  spoke,  but  started 
in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  Estelle,"  he  exclaimed,  rapidly  passing  his 
hand  over  her  head,  "  your  hair  is  wet!" 

Mrs.  Redmond  sat  suddenly  upright  and  pushed  aside 
his  hand.  Her  breath  came  quickly  and  a  round  red 
spot  glowed  on  either  cheek. 

"  Don't,  John,"  she  said  wearily,  "  my  head  is  very 
sensitive.  Please  don't  touch  it." 

"  But  see,"  he  returned,  holding  out  his  hand  for  her 
inspection,  ' '  only  see  how  wet  my  fingers  are. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  took  the  hand  hi  both  of  hers  and  laid 
her  cheek  against  it. 

"  You  dear  old  silly,"  she  said  languidly,  "  my  head 
was  so  hot  and  ached  so  badly  I  had  Josephine  put 
crushed  ice  on  it.  I  was  too  vain  to  let  you  see  me  tied 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          107 

up  in  a  towel,  so  I  took  it  off  when  I  heard  you  coming, 
but,  of  course,  my  hair  is  wet." 

The  Secretary  smiled  indulgently  and  returned  to  the 
subject  of  Isabel  Byrd's  engagement.  Mrs.  Redmond 
sank  back  again  upon  the  couch  and  listened  quietly 
with  closed  eyes. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said  reflectively,  "  isn't  it  about 
time  we  entertained  Lyndhurst?" 

The  lace  upon  the  bosom  of  her  gown  moved  suddenly 
and  a  pause  ensued. 

' '  He  has  been  here,  dear, ' '  she  said  at  last ;  ' '  you 
forget  the  ball." 

"  But  that  is  not  enough,"  he  objected,  rolling  the 
end  of  the  ribbon  at  her  waist  about  his  fingers  and 
slowly  smoothing  it  out  again,  "  we  must  give  a  dinner 
for  him  and  ask  the  other  diplomats.  We  should  have 
done  so  before  this." 

' 'AU  of  them,  John?" 

"  Estelle,"  he  exclaimed,  laughing,  "  I  believe  you 
are  getting  lazy.  For  the  first  time  since  our  marriage 
you  are  shirking  responsibility." 

'  I  dislike  the  English,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  in  gen- 
eral condemnation;  "  as  a  rule  they  are  so  stolid  and 
heavy ;  they  remind  me  of  underdone  bread. ' ' 

'  Well,"  returned  the  Secretary,  relinquishing  the 
ribbon,  "  I  admit  this  young  fellow  attracts  me.  There 
is  nothing  stolid  about  him,  I  assure  you;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  is  remarkably  alert.  I  have  met  him  officially 
as  well  as  socially,  of  course,  and  I  think  you  will  like 
him  when  you  know  him." 

Mrs.  Redmond  pushed  aside  the  heavy  hair  which  had 
fallen  over  her  forehead  and  turned  her  face  away  from 
the  light. 


108  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  We  will  have  the  dinner,  dear,"  she  said  gently, 
"  and  invite  the  whole  Diplomatic  Corps  if  you  say  so. 
I  think  a  large  affair  would  be  best,  don 't  you  ? ' ' 

11  I  will  leave  it  entirely  to  you,"  he  replied.  "  I 
know  I  am  in  safe  hands,  although  they  are  very  small 
to  be  so  capable." 

The  Secretary  was  much  given  to  such  old-fashioned 
gallantries.  Although  he  had  been  married  five  years, 
he  was  as  much  in  love  with  his  wife  as  the  day  he  had 
gone  with  her  to  the  little  church  in  Paris  and  placed 
upon  her  finger  the  small  golden  band. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          109 


XI 


THE  fire  in  Mrs.  Redmond's  sitting-room  burned 
cheerfully,  casting  flickering  shadows  upon  the  brass 
andirons  and  crackling  sociably;  it  was  a  fire  to  invite 
easy-chairs  and  confidences;  or,  if  one  happened  to  be 
alone,  to  sit  beside  and  dream,  for  there  were  pictures 
in  it  and  castles  in  the  air  roundabout  if  one  cared  to 
look  for  them. 

The  mistress  of  the  room  sat  in  a  low  chair,  her  hands 
clasped  idly  in  her  lap  and  the  tip  of  her  slipper  upon 
the  fender.  She  was  one  of  the  few  people  capable  of 
absolute  inaction  and  had  been  sitting  motionless  for 
the  past  hour,  her  head  resting  upon  the  silk  cushion  at 
the  back  of  her  chair  and  her  eyes  partly  closed,  as 
though  the  dark  lashes  were  too  heavy  for  the  white 
lids  they  fringed  and  had  weighed  them  down.  She 
was  a  study  for  an  artist  as  she  sat  there  in  the  dusk 
of  the  short  winter's  day,  with  the  firelight  casting  its 
ruddy  glow  upon  the  rich  folds  of  her  gown  and  reflect- 
ing itself  in  the  dark,  polished  floor.  A  casual  observer 
would  doubtless  have  labelled  the  picture  "  Repose,"  but 
if  one  looked  again  one  could  detect  a  tired  expression 
about  the  mouth  and  a  reluctant  expectancy  in  the  whole 
attitude  the  reverse  of  restful.  The  clock  on  the  mantel 
chimed,  and  she  frowned  a  little. 

"A  half  hour  late,"  she  said  aloud  as  the  door  opened 
and  Count  Valdmir  entered  quietly. 


110  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  thought  I  would  announce  myself,"  he  remarked 
as  he  crossed  the  room.  "  It  was  not  too  much  of  a 
liberty  in  an  old  friend,  was  it?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  moved  the  glass  screen  which  lay  in 
her  lap  and  held  it  between  her  face  and  the  fire. 

"  I  said  four  o'clock,"  she  remarked  abruptly;  "  it 
is  now  half -past. ' ' 

"  I  apologize,"  he  returned,  "  the  delay  was  unavoid- 
able. I  may  sit  down?" 

She  bowed  distantly. 

"  You  were  dreaming  when  I  came  in,"  he  resumed. 
"  You  used  to  dream  away  whole  days  in  Berlin,  I  re- 
member. A  habit  is  like  a  perfume — it  clings  to  one." 

"  I  was  not  dreaming,"  she  interrupted  sharply,  "  I 
was  thinking  of  you. ' ' 

"  I  am  flattered,  Madame." 

They  spoke  in  French,  a  language  in  which  both  were 
proficient,  and  their  words  were  chosen  with  care. 

"  I  was  wondering,"  she  continued  slowly,  "  if  you 
had  a  heart." 

"A  heart,"  said  Count  Valdmir  reflectively,  "  is  the 
instrument  by  means  of  which  our  blood  is  circulated; 
we  all  possess  them,  do  we  not?" 

She  moved  impatiently,  and  he  bent  forward  that  he 
might  see  her  face. 

"  I  have  a  heart,  Madame,"  he  said  quietly,  "  al- 
though I  have  but  lately  become  aware  of  the  fact 
myself.  Shall  I  tell  you  how  I  know?" 

"  It  does  not  interest  me,"  she  returned  coldly. 

A  servant  entered,  replenished  the  fire,  and  noiselessly 
withdrew;  Count  Valdmir  watched  him  in  silence  and 
smiled  sceptically. 

"So!"  he  said,  when   they  were  again  alone,   "  a 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          111 

daughter   of   Eve,   yet   not   curious.      Is   that   not    an 
anomaly  ? ' ' 

"It  is  only  the  unsophisticated  who  are  curious," 
returned  Mrs.  Redmond  slowly.  "  When  one  has 
actually  tasted  the  apple,  one's  teeth  are  set  on  edge 
forever — it  is  so  sour." 

' '  You  speak  bitterly,  Madame. ' ' 

' '  Perhaps  so,  Count  Valdmir. ' ' 

Again  he  leaned  forward  that  he  might  see  her  face 
more  clearly. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  after  a  long  pause,  "  do  you  ever 
live  the  old  days  over  in  memory,  or  is  the  past  dead  as 
well  as  buried?" 

"  It  is  not  even  buried,"  she  replied,  "  it  rises  from 
the  grave  I  dug  for  it  and  follows  me  everywhere." 

"  Then  you  sometimes  think  of  Berlin?" 

"  Often,  Count." 

"  With  regret?" 

"  With  deep  regret." 

"  I  too,  Madame,  regret  my  lost  opportunities.  Like 
you,  I  wish  I  might  live  that  part  of  my  life  over  again." 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond 
distinctly,  ' '  my  regret  is  not  that  the  old  days  are  gone, 
but  that  they  ever  existed  at  all." 

'  You  are  happy,  yes?"  he  said  interrogatively. 
'  I    scarcely    suppose,"    she    returned    indifferently, 
"  you  asked  for  this  interview  simply  to  discuss  my 
happiness  or  misery.     I  presume  you  want  something; 
what  is  it?" 

"  I  want  to  know,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  why  you 
failed  to  keep  your  appointment  on  Thursday  evening. ' ' 
- ' '  You  do  know,  Count  Valdmir. ' ' 

' '  But  not  enough.     You  started  and  lost  your  way ; 


112  THE    WIFE    OF 

you  also  lost  the  kernel  from  the  nut,  as  it  were.  A 
curious  coincidence,  and  one  worthy  of  much  thought." 

"  They  were  lost,  I  tell  you — lost,"  she  whispered 
hoarsely. 

' '  Even  as  the  Khedive 's  opals  were  lost, ' '  he  returned 
slowly. 

Mrs.  Redmond  caught  the  back  of  a  chair  and  steadied 
herself  against  it. 

"  Count  Valdmir,"  she  said  with  a  visible  effort  at 
self-control,  "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  insult  me  in  my 
own  house.  You  will  apologize  for  your  insinuation 
at  once,  if  you  please." 

"  I  think,"  he  replied  with  an  unpleasant  laugh, 
"  that  Mrs.  Redmond  has  lived  so  long  in  Washington 
she  is  inclined  to  forget  Berlin." 

She  put  her  finger  on  the  electric  bell  in  the  wall 
beside  her. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Count,"  she  said  quietly, 
"  not  yet,  at  least.  You  are  too  wise  a  man  to  throw 
away  a  tool  before  it  has  served  its  purpose.  If  I 
touch  this  button  I  will  tell  my  servants  to  show  you 
out  and  not  admit  you  again.  Shall  I  ring?" 

"  Madame,"  he  returned,  with  a  slight  bow,  "  when 
you  are  angry  you  are  superb.  I  apologize. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  resumed  her  chair  and  again  took  pos- 
session of  the  glass  screen. 

"  I  have  told  you  all  I  know,"  she  said  coldly,  after 
a  long  pause. 

There  are  almost  as  many  kinds  of  silence  as  there 
are  types  of  humanity,  and  while  nothing  is  more 
soothing  and  delightful  than  the  prolonged  quiet  of  real 
camaraderie,  it  is  equally  true  that  nothing  is  more 
exhausting  than  the  silence  of  distrust  or  contempt. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          113 

The  little  French  clock  on  the  mantel  ticked  rapidly  as 
though  hurrying  time  away,  and  the  fire  blazed  merrily, 
sending  an  occasional  spark  over  the  fender  and  out 
into  the  room,  while  the  winter's  day  waned  and  the 
twilight  deepened. 

"  Is  there  anything  else?"  finally  inquired  Mrs.  Red- 
mond without  turning  her  head. 

Count  Valdmir  carefully  extinguished  a  spark  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  rug  and  lay  smouldering  there. 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  he  said  slowly,  "  there  is  some- 
thing more.  I  earnestly  desire  an  appointment  for  a 
friend." 

"  An  appointment?" 

"  A  temporary  clerkship  in  the  Department  of  State. 
The  man  is  old  and  poor.  A  worthy  charity." 

"A  friend  of  yours,"  she  said  with  a  short  laugh, 
"  and  a  worthy  charity?" 

"  Even  so,  Madame." 

"  It  could  be  arranged,  I  suppose,"  she  said  unwill- 
ingly, "  if  it  is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  I  should  not  ask  it  otherwise,  Madame." 

Mrs.  Redmond  went  to  her  desk  and  produced  a  small 
memorandum-book. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  give  me  his  name  and  address," 
she  said  briefly.  "  I  do  not  promise  this  appointment, 
but  I  will  make  a  note  of  it." 

'  His  name,  Madame,  is  Joseph  Sanders.    He  lives  at 
Jackson  City,  a  small  town  in  Virginia." 

' '  Joseph  Sanders, ' '  she  repeated  as  she  wrote  it  down, 
"  an  excellent  alias — non-committal  and  respectable.  I 
think,  Count,  I  will  be  obliged  to  know  a  little  more 
about  Mr.  Sanders  before  I  interest  myself  in  his 
behalf." 

8 


114  THE    WIFE    OF 

He  watched  her  enter  the  name  and  raised  his  eye- 
brows slightly  as  she  spoke. 

' '  I  think  not,  Madame, ' '  he  said  confidently ;  ' '  your 
naturally  kind  heart  will  prompt  you  to  assist  the  needy 
without  making  useless  inquiries  concerning  them.  In 
the  course  of  the  next  few  weeks  my  friend  will  be 
installed,  I  am  sure.  He  is,  by  the  way,  an  American 
by  birth." 

''And  by  adoption — what?" 

' '  A  man  without  a  country,  Madame ;  there  are  many 
such  wanderers. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  returned  the  book  to  her  desk  and 
faced  her  companion. 

"  You  received  my  invitation  to  dinner?" 

' '  This  morning  only.    I  shall,  of  course,  accept. ' ' 

"  I  thought  you  would.  Force  of  circumstances 
obliged  me  to  ask  you — your  official  position  and  my 
husband's,  you  understand?" 

"  I  was  not  unduly  flattered  by  the  attention,"  he 
returned  dryly. 

"  The  dinner,"  continued  Mrs.  Redmond,  speaking 
slowly  and  distinctly,  "  is  given  for  the  new  British 
Attache,  Mr.  Lyndhurst" 

Count  Valdmir  had  risen  and  was  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fireplace,  watching  her  every  movement 
closely.  She  drew  a  long-stemmed  rose  from  the  vase 
upon  the  desk  and  crossed  the  room  towards  him, 
moving  with  a  languid  grace  peculiarly  her  own,  the 
flower  hanging  loosely  from  her  hand  and  her  small 
head  held  proudly  erect.  Resuming  the  low  chair  before 
the  fire,  she  slowly  lifted  the  rose  and  inhaled  its  per- 
fume, then  looked  directly  at  her  companion,  unde- 
niable challenge  in  her  blue  eyes. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          115 

"  The  dinner,"  she  repeated,  "  is  given  for  Mr. 
Lyndhurst. ' ' 

The  ticking  of  the  little  clock  seemed  obtrusively  loud 
as  the  man  and  woman  gazed  at  each  other  in  silence. 
He  bent  forward  eagerly  that  he  might  see  her  face 
more  distinctly  in  the  gathering  dusk  and  the  pupils  of 
his  eyes  dilated  strangely,  a  sudden,  passionate  light 
replacing  their  usual  calm  coldness. 

With  an  involuntary  movement  he  stooped  over  her, 
his  quick  breath  stirring  the  loose  tendrils  of  hair  about 
her  ears. 

"  Estelle,"  he  murmured  softly,  "  Estelle." 

The  blue  eyes  widened  as  they  gazed  helplessly  up  at 
him  as  though  fascinated,  a  blank,  baffled  expression 
gradually  replacing  their  first  angry  surprise. 

Count  Valdmir  was  speaking  again,  speaking  hur- 
riedly, his  incoherent  words  crowding  rapidly  upon  one 
another  and  his  face  coming  gradually  closer  as  his 
voice  grew  lower,  and  his  pulses  throbbed  painfully. 
And  Mrs.  Redmond  was  listening — listening  with  a 
curious  sense  of  remote  unreality  and  the  trembling 
stillness  with  which  a  bird  watches  the  cat  who,  having 
charmed  it,  prepares  to  spring. 

"  You  shall  not  be  troubled,"  he  was  saying;  "  I 
can  shield  you  if  you  will  let  me.  Estelle,  I  have 
wanted  you  always, — do  you  understand? — always." 

She  made  an  effort  to  rise,  but  he  put  her  gently  back. 

"  You  need  not  fear  Lyndhurst,"  he  continued 
breathlessly.  ' '  With  me  you  need  fear  no  one.  I  want 
you,  Star  of  the  World,  I  want  you." 

Mrs.  Redmond  shook  off  his  restraining  hand  and 
sprang  to  her  feet. 

' '  How  dare  you  ? ' '  she  gasped.    ' '  How  dare  you  ? ' ' 


116  THE    WIFE    OF 

With  unsteady  fingers  she  switched  on  the  electric 
light  and  pointed  to  the  door.  Count  Valdmir  took  out 
his  handkerchief  and  mopped  his  forehead.  The  pupils 
of  his  eyes  contracted  as  suddenly  as  they  had  expanded, 
and  the  eyes  themselves  resumed  their  habitually  keen 
expression. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  as  well,  Madame,"  he  said,  alluding 
to  the  light,  "  the  situation  was  becoming  somewhat 
strained. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  tried  to  speak,  but  her  lips  refused  to 
articulate;  she  was  very  pale  and  her  eyes  glittered 
ominously. 

"  Let  us  discuss  the  question  coolly,"  he  remarked, 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  red  rose,  which  had  fallen  to  the 
floor.  "  I  offer  you  absolute  security,  peace  of  mind, 
safety — what  you  will.  In  return  I  ask — what  ?  A  few 
sugarplums:  a  kiss  now  and  then  perhaps — nothing 
more  than  men  have  asked  of  you  before,  Madame,  if 
my  memory  serves  me  rightly." 

She  pressed  the  button  in  the  wall  beside  her  without 
replying. 

"  It  is  a  small  price  to  pay  for  safety, ' '  he  continued. 
"  I  am  better  as  your  friend  than  your  enemy,  Madame. 
I  can  be  merciless  when  it  serves  my  purpose." 

"  I  know,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  know." 

"  I  hold  your  happiness  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand. 
You  are  brave,  Madame;  you  possess  courage  few  men 
can  boast, — I  admire  it, — but  it  will  avail  you  nothing 
if  I  elect  to  speak." 

"  I  have  done  all  you  asked,"  she  said  mechanically. 

"  Not  quite  all,  Madame.  Somehow  you  have 
bungled ;  it  is  not  in  your  nature  to  fail,  therefore  I  am 
suspicious. ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          117 

"  What  I  told  you  is  true,  Count  Valdmir;  I 
swear  it." 

He  moved  impulsively  forward  and  seized  her  hands. 

"  I  want  you  to  be  happy,"  he  said  softly;  "  it's 
such  a  small  thing  I  ask :  only  a  few  caresses — only  an 
occasional  moment  out  of  your  life.  How  little!  Kiss 
me,  Estelle,  and  promise  what  I  ask.  Kiss  me  now, 
yourself,  and  the  slate  is  sponged  clean.  Come  to  me, 
Star  of  the  World,  and  be  at  rest." 

He  dropped  her  hands  hastily  as  the  door  opened  and 
retreated  a  few  paces,  pulling  to  pieces  the  red  rose  and 
breathing  heavily. 

"  James,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  to  the  footman  who 
stood  awaiting  orders,  "  Count  Valdmir  is  going.  Show 
him  out." 

"  And,"  said  James  later  in  the  butler's  pantry  in 
indignant  narrative,  "  when  I  handed  him  his  hat,  most 
respectful  and  polite,  he  up  and  cussed  me,  that's  what 
he  done." 


118  THE    WIFE    OF 


XII 


"  ISABEL,"  remarked  Mrs.  Redmond  to  Miss  Byrd  as 
the  latter  entered  the  library,  "  don't  ever  marry  a 
member  of  the  Cabinet." 

"  Why  not?"  inquired  Miss  Byrd;  "  you  seem  to 
get  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  out  of  it." 

"  It's  the  awful  question  of  precedence  at  dinner  and 
things, ' '  said  Mrs.  Redmond  vaguely,  her  white  forehead 
puckered  ominously.  "  I  literally  quake  all  over  when 
we  do  our  duty  and  invite  the  diplomats  for  fear  I  will 
somehow  blunder.  Suppose,  now,  I  should  happen  to 
put  the  premier  of  the  corps  in  the  middle  of  the  table. ' ' 

"As  a  centrepiece,"  suggested  Isabel,  laughing,  "  he 
might  be  very  effective,  I  should  think." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  And  they  are  always 
being  recalled,  or  dying,  or  changing  somehow.  It  is 
enough  to  turn  one 's  hair  white. ' ' 

"  Oh  Estelle,"  said  Isabel,  laughing  again,  "  this 
from  you,  and  I  know  you  absolutely  revel  in  your  posi- 
tion because  of  the  way  you  can  chatter  in  foreign  lan- 
guages. You  would  not  change  places  with  any  woman 
living,  and  you  know  it." 

Mrs.  Redmond  became  suddenly  grave. 

"  I  declare  to  you,  Isabel,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  if 
John  would  resign  and  take  me  out  West  somewhere, — 
on  a  ranch,  I  think, — away  from  it  all,  I  believe  I  would 
be  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          119 

"  Well,  I  like  it,"  replied  Isabel  as  she  sank  into  a 
comfortable  low  chair  and  removed  her  gloves.  "  I  like 
rubbing  elbows  with  other  nations  and  meeting  all  sorts 
of  interesting  people,  although  it  does  make  me  realize 
sometimes  what  a  very  insignificant  person  Miss  Isabel 
Byrd  is,  after  all." 

"  My  elbows  are  already  sore  from  too  much  rub- 
bing," remarked  Mrs.  Redmond  ruefully,  and  they  both 
laughed. 

"  What  magnificent  orchids,"  exclaimed  Isabel  sud- 
denly. ' '  Whence,  Estelle  ? ' ' 

"  Count  Valdmir, "  returned  Mrs.  Redmond  briefly, 
adding  emphatically,  "  I  dislike  orchids  as  much  as  one 
can  dislike  a  flower." 

"  Count  Valdmir,"  repeated  Isabel  as  she  pulled  a 
blossom  or  so  into  greater  prominence,  "  he  of  the  waxed 
mustache  and  sphinx-like  smile.  I  think,  Estelle,  I  dis- 
like Count  Valdmir  as  much  as  one  can  dislike  a  man — 
and  sometimes  that  means  a  lot." 

'  He  dines  here  to-night,"  remarked  Mrs.  Redmond 
as  she  crossed  the  room  and  stood  looking  at  the  girl 
as  she  sat  in  the  low  chair  with  the  sunlight  touching 
her  hair  lovingly  and  turning  it  into  burnished  gold. 

Isabel's  hair  was  her  father's  pride  and  the  chronic 
despair  of  her  aunt,  as  it  would  not  lend  itself  to  any 
prescribed  form  of  coiffure,  but  rebelliously  put  forth 
curling  tendrils  where  least  expected,  as  though  laugh- 
ing at  the  bare  idea  of  restraint.  Mrs.  Chesley  had  been 
heard  to  say,  during  the  chrysalis  period  of  her  niece's 
development,  that  her  red  hair  and  pug  nose  were 
calamities  which  might  be  borne  with  pious  resignation 
were  it  not  for  the  wayward  spirit  which  accompanied 
them  and  from  which  she  was  a  daily  sufferer.  Time, 


120  THE    WIFE    OF 

indeed,  had  shaped  the  inquiring  nose  into  a  piquant 
and  most  attractive  appendage,  and  had  softened  the 
hue  of  the  objectionable  tresses  into  a  rich  red-gold,  the 
delight  of  artists,  but  Mrs.  Chesley  was  of  the  opinion 
that  the  ungovernable  spirit  merely  smouldered  and 
might  be  roused  at  short  notice. 

Mrs.  Redmond  sat  down  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair 
and  her  eyes  involuntarily  followed  the  ray  of  light  cast 
by  the  diamond  upon  the  plump  white  hand  lying 
lightly  in  the  girl's  lap.  It  was  a  very  handsome  dia- 
mond, and  compelled  attention,  so  Mrs.  Redmond 
thought,  almost  obtrusively. 

"  Mr.  Rivers,"  she  said  slowly,  "  has  regretted." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Isabel  quietly,  "  he  had  another  en- 
gagement. He  was  very  sorry." 

Estelle  Redmond  turned  suddenly  and  took  her 
friend's  face  between  her  hands,  looking  earnestly  into 
the  gray  eyes,  which  clouded  a  little  and  failed  to 
respond  to  her  affectionate  gaze  with  their  customary 
frankness. 

' '  Why  did  you  do  it  ? "  she  said  impulsively ;  ' '  tell 
me,  Isabel." 

' '  Why  does  anybody  want  to  get  married  ? ' '  returned 
Isabel,  laughing  impatiently  and  turning  her  head  away 
from  the  inquiring  eyes.  "  Why  did  you  do  it  your- 
self, for  that  matter?" 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  quickly,  "  that's  dif- 
ferent." 

She  looked  involuntarily  towards  a  photograph  of  her 
husband,  and,  rising,  placed  it  further  back  on  the 
mantel  where  it  was  in  no  danger  of  falling,  touching 
it  gently  and  relinquishing  it  half  regretfully,  while  the 
girl  watched  her  curiously. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          121 

"  Estelle,"  she  said  almost  timidly,  "  did  you  love 
him  that  way  before  you  were  married,  or  did  it  come 
later  ? 

"Ah,  no,"  she  continued  hastily,  as  her  companion 
was  about  to  reply,  "  don't  tell  me.  I  don't  think  I 
want  to  know.  But  you  do  love  your  husband  more  and 
more  all  the  time,  Estelle,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  softly,  "  more  and  more 
every  day." 

"And  you  are  happy,  married?  Happier  than  when 
you  were  a  girl?  Aunt  Mary  says  that  every  right- 
minded  woman " 

"  I  am  happy,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Redmond,  speaking 
quickly  and  emphatically,  "  so  happy,  Isabel,  that  I 
would  be  quite  willing  to  give  up  all  chance  of  heaven 
hereafter  in  order  to  preserve  my  heaven  upon  earth." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand,  Estelle." 

"  I  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  speaking  to  the 
picture  on  the  mantel  rather  than  to  the  girl  listening 
wide-eyed  in  the  low  chair,  "  I  mean  that  I  possess  the 
love  and  respect  of  a  good  man,  and  there  is  nothing 
in  the  world  I  would  not  do  rather  than  to  lose  it." 

"  But,  Estelle,"  interrupted  Isabel  in  a  puzzled  voice, 
' '  of  course  you  expect  your  husband  to  love  and  respect 
you,  every  woman  does.  I  don't  understand — 

"And  please  God  you  never  will,"  said  Mrs.  Red- 
mond earnestly,  adding  cheerfully,  "  and  now  my 
solemn  mood  has  gone.  It  was  all  your  fault,  anyhow, 
for  getting  engaged  so  quietly  that  you  stole  a  march 
even  on  me.  Let  me  see  your  ring.  And  how  about 
Mr.  Leigh,  Isabel,  and  others  I  could  mention?" 

Isabel  turned  her  ring  slowly  around  her  finger  and 
watched  the  diamond  as  it  caught  the  light. 


122  THE    WIFE    OF 

"Estelle,"  she  said  gravely,  "I  think  I'd  like  to 
tell  you  something." 

"About  Mr.  Leigh?" 

Isabel  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  rested  her  chin  on 
her  hand  and  gazed  straight  before  her,  a  troubled  look 
in  her  gray  eyes  and  a  serious  expression  about  the  lips 
usually  so  prone  to  curve  into  infectious  smiles  display- 
ing captivating  little  dimples  where  least  expected. 

"  Well?"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  after  waiting  some 
minutes  in  silence. 

' '  One  afternoon, ' '  began  Isabel  slowly,  ' '  I  was  in  the 
library  at  home — in  the  curtained  alcove,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Redmond  nodded  and  drew  up  her  chair. 

"  I  know,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Isabel  with  an  evident  effort,  "  I 
think  I  must  have  fallen  into  a  doze,  for  I  don't  remem- 
ber anything  especial  until  I  heard  voices  in  the  library. 
It  was  father  and  Mr.  Rivers,  and  they  seemed  to  have 
been  talking  a  long  time.  The  first  thing  I  heard  dis- 
tinctly was  Mr.  Rivers  saying  very  positively,  '  I  believe 
Leigh  is  the  guilty  man,'  and  then,  Estelle,  of  course  I 
waked  right  up  and  listened  with  all  my  might. ' ' 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Mrs.  Redmond. 

"  Father  said  doubtfully,  '  The  Secretary  has  every 
confidence  in  him,'  and  Mr.  Rivers  said,  '  That  doesn't 
prove  anything.  A  child  could  pull  wool  over  his  eyes 
if  it  wanted  to. '  ' 

"  Mr.  Rivers  did  not  know  what  he  was  talking 
about,"  remarked  Mrs.  Redmond  indignantly,  but  Isabel 
continued  her  story  without  noticing  the  interruption. 

'  They  talked  a  long  time,  and  I  gathered  that  an 
important  paper  had  been  stolen  from  the  State  De- 
partment. Father  said  Mr.  Leigh  was  certainly  respon- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          123 

sible  and  that  decisive  steps  of  some  sort  ought  to  be 
taken  at  once,  and  Mr.  Rivers " 

Mrs.  Redmond  had  turned  her  head  so  that  her  face 
was  in  the  shadow. 

"  Well,"  she  said  almost  sharply,  "  what  did  Mr. 
Rivers  say?" 

' '  He  said, ' '  replied  Isabel  gravely,  ' '  that  he  had  been 
having  Mr.  Leigh  watched,  '  shadowed'  was  the  word. 
It  sounds  horrid,  doesn't  it?" 

"  It  certainly  does,"  agreed  Mrs.  Redmond  with  a 
little  shiver. 

"And  that  he  hoped  matters  would  soon  be  brought 
to  a  climax.  And  when  he  said  that,  Estelle,  I  think  I 
hated  him." 

"  Go  on, "  said  Mrs.  Redmond  briefly. 

"  There  was  a  good  deal  more,"  continued  Isabel 
reflectively,  "  and  presently  father  said  he  thought  he 
could  test  Mr.  Leigh  that  very  afternoon,  as  he  expected 
him  on  some  business  for  the  Secretary.  He  suggested 
that  they  make  up  a  bundle  of  blank  papers  and  label  it 
'  Roostchook,'  then  let  them  lie  on  the  table  and  leave 
Mr.  Leigh  alone  in  the  room.  Father  said  he  felt  sure 
the  papers  would  remain  untouched,  but  Mr.  Rivers 
thought  not. 

"  I  know  it  was  not  very  honorable  to  listen  to  all  this, 
but  I  couldn't  help  it,  Estelle,  I  just  couldn't.  I  felt 
angry  that  they  should  suspect  Mr.  Leigh,  or  anyone 
else,  of  such  a  thing,  and  I  wanted  to  stay  there  myself 
and  watch  to  prove  they  were  wrong,  and  then  tell  them 
just  what  I  thought  of  them.  You  understand,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  understand." 

"  Well,"   resumed   the   girl,    with   heightened    color, 


124  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  they  fixed  up  the  papers  and  smoked  awhile  without 
saying  anything,  and  then  all  at  once  Mr.  Rivers  began 
talking  about  me,  saying  he  wanted  to  marry  me.  I  was 
so  surprised  I  nearly  tumbled  out  of  the  alcove  and 
spoiled  everything,  and  I  almost  wish  I  had." 

"  I  wish  so  too,  Isabel." 

"  Father  said,"  went  on  Isabel  hurriedly,  "  how 
pleased  he  would  be  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  then 
the  door-bell  rang  and  they  went  upstairs.  It  was  Mr. 
Leigh,  and  he  came  into  the  library  and  sat  down  by  the 
table  with  those  miserable  papers  right  under  his  nose. 
After  awhile  he  saw  them. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  was  leaning  forward  now,  listening 
intently  to  every  word,  a  curious  light  in  her  blue  eyes. 

' '  Go  on, ' '  she  said  breathlessly,  "  go  on. " 

He  picked  them  up  and  turned  them  over  and  over 
and  studied  the  outside  wrapper.  It  had  '  Roostchook — 
Confidential,'  printed  very  large  on  it  in  red  ink;  I 
could  see  it  distinctly.  He  kept  on  turning  them  over 
doubtfully,  and  then,  Estelle,  he  looked  hastily  behind 
him  and  put  them  in  his  pocket. ' ' 

"Ah!"  Mrs.  Redmond  leaned  back  in  her  chair  as 
though  the  tension  had  suddenly  relaxed. 

"Just  then,"  continued  Isabel,  "  father  sent  for  Mr. 
Leigh  and  I  could  come  out.  I  felt  the  way  I  used  to 
feel  as  a  child  when  I  had  been  swinging  too  long — all 
light-headed  and  giddy,  you  know,  with  everything 
blurry.  It's  a  horrid -sensation." 

' '  Well,  I  sat  there  in  father 's  chair  and  thought  it  all 
over,  and  the  more  I  thought  the  sorrier  I  felt  for  Mr. 
Leigh;  although  he  had  proved  himself  dishonorable, 
I  did  not  want  father  and  Mr.  Rivers  to  know  it,  and, 
after  all,  it  was  only  a  bundle  of  blank  papers  and  there 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          125 

was  no  great  harm  done.  And  so,  Estelle,  I  made  up 
another  package  and  printed  '  Roostchook — Confiden- 
tial '  on  it,  just  like  the  first.  Father  taught  me  how  to 
print,  and  you  can't  tell  my  letters  from  his." 

"  You — made  another  package?"  said  Mrs.  Red- 
mood  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Isabel  in  a  tired  voice,  "  it  was 
quite  easy.  I  despise  Mr.  Leigh,  of  course,  and  have 
a  contempt  for  him,  but  it  is  not  necessary  that  anybody 
else  should  know." 

Mrs.  Redmond  put  her  hand  gently  upon  the  bright 
hair. 

"  Poor  little  Isabel,"  she  said  softly. 

"Just  as  I  got  them  fixed,"  resumed  Isabel  quietly, 
"  Mr.  Rivers  came  in  and  looked  at  the  table,  and  there 
was  the  bundle  exactly  as  he  put  it,  staring  him  right 
in  the  face.  Then  he  saw  me,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew 
he  was  asking  me  to  marry  him,  and  I  said  I  would, 
Estelle,  because  it  seemed  to  me  I  might  as  well  do  that 
as  anything." 

Mrs.  Redmond  had  crossed  the  room  and  stood  look- 
ing out  over  the  broad  avenue  with  compressed  lips  and 
moist  lashes. 

'  Is  that  all?"  she  inquired,  but  without  turning 
around. 

"  No,"  said  Isabel  hesitatingly,  "  not  quite.  It  was 
that  stormy  Thursday  when  you  were  ill  and  could  not 
dine  with  us — you  remember,  don't  you?" 

"Perfectly,  Isabel." 

'  Well,  after  I  was  dressed  it  occurred  to  me  I  might 
go  to  Mr.  Leigh  and  ask  him  to  give  back  those  papers, 
and  perhaps  he  would  explain  why  he  took  them.  I 
thought  I  had  plenty  of  tune  before  dinner  and  it  was 


126  THE    WIFE    OF 

only  kind  to  warn  him  about  the  shadowing.  Anyhow, 
I  went." 

' '  You  went,  alone,  to  Mr.  Leigh 's  lodgings ! "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Redmond,  turning  from  the  window  in 
genuine  astonishment.  "  Isabel!" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl  quietly,  "  and  I  wish  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  I  had  stayed  at  home. ' ' 

She  paused  uncertainly  and  looked  anxiously  at  her 
companion. 

"  This  is  very  confidential,  Estelle, "  she  said,  with  a 
little  quiver  in  her  voice,  "  but  I  must  talk  to  someone, 
and  Aunt  Mary  never  understands  things.  I  have  been 
so  worried " 

Mrs.  Redmond  drew  the  chair  closer  and  sat  down 
quietly,  taking  Isabel's  hand  in  hers  caressingly. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  dear,"  she  said  gently.  ''John 
says  I  am  a  good  listener.  Then  we  will  talk  the  whole 
thing  over  and  see  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

"  You  are  such  a  comfortable  friend,"  returned 
Isabel  gratefully,  "  and  I  feel  it  is  so  safe  to  talk  to 
you.  Where  was  I  ? " 

"  You  had  started  for  Mr.  Leigh's  lodgings,"  said 
Estelle,  her  voice  a  little  mechanical  and  her  eyes  still 
following  the  flashing  of  the  diamond  upon  the  hand 
resting  confidingly  in  hers. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Isabel,  "  just  before  I  got  to  the 
house  Mr.  Leigh  himself  came  down  the  steps  and 
turned  in  the  opposite  direction.  Of  course,  I  called  to 
him,  but  he  didn't  hear  me,  and  I  tried  to  catch  up 
with  him,  but  he  walked  too  quickly  for  me.  It  was 
blowing  and  raining  and  the  streets  were  slippery.  I 
had  never  been  out  alone  at  night  before  and  I  was 
awfully  afraid,  but  I  kept  on  following  him,  scarcely 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          127 

knowing  what  I  was  doing,  and  oh,  Estelle,  he 
went " 

"  Yes?"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  breathlessly  as  she 
paused  a  moment.  "  Where,  Isabel,  where?" 

A  sudden  rustle  of  stiff  silk  became  evident  in  the 
hall  and  a  decided  voice  said  crisply: 

' '  No,  you  need  not  show  me  the  way.  I  will  announce 
myself. ' ' 

"Aunt  Mary,"  exclaimed  Isabel  with  an  impatient 
gesture  as  Mrs.  Chesley  sailed  into  the  room  with  the 
manner  of  one  confident  of  her  welcome. 

' '  I  was  sure  I  would  find  Isabel  here, ' '  she  remarked, 
placidly  sinking  into  the  most  comfortable  chair.  "  You 
should  not  let  her  monopolize  so  many  of  your  morn- 
ings, my  dear.  I  often  say  to  her  father  that  I  really 
don't  know  what  she  would  do  without  you." 

Mrs.  Redmond  made  an  appropriate  reply,  and  the 
conversation  drifted  into  the  subjects  uppermost  in 
Mrs.  Chesley 's  mind, — clothes  and  servants, — while  her 
niece  relapsed  into  a  silence  she  mentally  deplored  as 
sullen,  and  her  hostess  valiantly  endeavored  to  maintain 
a  courteous  and  interested  manner  in  spite  of  the  inop- 
portune arrival  of  her  visitor. 


128  THE    WIFE    OF 


XIII 

"  How  do  I  look?"  inquired  Mrs.  Redmond  some 
hours  later,  suddenly  appearing  in  her  husband's  dress- 
ing-room. 

There  was  but  one  answer  possible  and  the  Secretary 
promptly  made  it,  stooping  to  kiss  the  white  forehead 
and  touch  the  beautifully  dressed  hair  caressingly. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  think  so,"  she  said,  consulting  the 
mirror  anxiously.  "  This  gown  was  an  extravagance, 
John,  but  I  do  think  it  is  a  success. ' ' 

"  You  need  your  opals,"  replied  the  Secretary,  who 
took  a  genuine  interest  in  all  the  details  of  his  wife's 
toilet,  "  that  string  of  pearls  is  too  insignificant." 

"  You  have  a  perfect  passion  for  those  opals,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Redmond  with  a  little  laugh,  "  and  I  don't 
like  them  at  all.  I  had  much  rather  wear  the  jewels 
you  gave  me." 

"  But  it  gives  me  so  much  pleasure  to  see  you  in 
them,  dear.  You  should  indulge  an  old  man  in  such  a 
harmless  whim." 

"  You  shall  not  call  yourself  old,"  said  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, laying  a  soft  little  hand  across  his  lips;  "  of 
course  I  will  wear  them  if  you  really  wish  it.  Will  you 
ring  for  Josephine  to  get  them  for  me?" 

When  the  maid  had  departed  on  her  errand  Mrs.  Red- 
mond stepped  back  a  few  paces  and  looked  critically 
at  her  husband. 

"I'm  not  satisfied  with  your  appearance,  sir,"  she 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          129 

said  severely,  "  there  are  lines  about  your  mouth  and 
that  horrid  tired  look  in  your  eyes  again.  What  is  it, 
John?" 

The  Secretary  sighed  and  adjusted  his  cuff. 

"It  is  just  the  outcome  of  the  day,  Estelle,"  he 
replied;  "  those  papers  have  not  yet  been  found,  and 
the  President  is  much  annoyed.  I  think  I  am  getting 
too  old  for  politics;  every  day,  almost  every  hour, 
brings  fresh  anxieties,  and  I  do  not  seem  to  have  the 
ability  to  cope  with  them." 

"  Is  it  anything  special,  dear?" 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  Secretary,  putting  his  arm 
around  her  waist  and  seeming  to  derive  some  comfort 
from  the  action,  "  I  think  the  thing  which  troubles  me 
most  is  the  knowledge  that  someone  I  trusted  has  de- 
ceived me.  The  papers  were  undoubtedly  stolen  by  an 
employe  of  the  Department  and  the  thief  has  not  been 
found,  therefore  I  am  growing  suspicious  of  everybody, 
a  most  unhealthy  atmosphere  in  which  to  live. ' ' 

"  John,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  as  she  carefully  pinned 
a  white  carnation  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  "  perhaps 
the  papers  were  not  stolen  after  all;  they  may  only  be 
mislaid." 

The  Secretary  shook  his  head  positively. 
'  You  don't  understand  the  importance  of  the  mat- 
ter, Estelle,"  he  said  quietly;   "  they  were  not  mislaid. 
The  thief  must  be  found,  and  he  need  expect  no  mercy 
from  me  whoever  he  may  be." 

"  "Whoever  he  may  be,"  repeated  Mrs.  Redmond  ab- 
sently, putting  the  brushes  on  the  dressing-table 
straight,  "  he — does  not  deserve  any  mercy,  John.  Do 
you  really  expect  to  find  him  ? ' ' 

"  Sooner  or  later  he  must  be  found,"  returned  the 

9 


130  THE    WIFE    OF 

Secretary  positively.  "  What  he  has  done  successfully 
once  he  will  attempt  again;  the  cleverest  thief  inva- 
riably steals  one  thing  too  much  and  in  so  doing  over- 
reaches himelf." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "  yes,  I  suppose  so. 
Once  too  often,  and  then — 

"  Here  is  Josephine  with  the  opals,"  interrupted  the 
Secretary  cheerfully.  ' '  We  will  talk  of  something  more 
interesting.  Let  me  help  you  with  your  necklace." 

With  fingers  much  too  large  for  the  work,  but 
strangely  deft,  nevertheless,  he  unclasped  the  string  of 
pearls  and  replaced  them  with  the  opals,  while  Jose- 
phine skilfully  adjusted  the  crescent  in  her  mistress's 
dark  hair. 

"  Estelle,"  he  exclaimed  as  the  maid  withdrew,  "  you 
are  the  light  of  my  eyes,  you  know,  but  sometimes  you 
positively  dazzle  them." 

Mrs.  Redmond  swept  her  skirt  about  her  and  made 
him  a  low  courtesy. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  taking  his  arm,  "  we  must  go 
downstairs,  it  is  time  for  our  guests  to  arrive,  and  I 
want — oh  John,  I  want  this  dinner  to  be  absolutely 
perfect.  If  any  contretemps  occurs  I  think  I  should 
like  to  retire  into  strictly  private  life  and  exist  on  the 
memory  of  my  past  greatness. ' ' 

They  had  entered  the  long  drawing-room,  glowing 
with  light  and  fragrant  with  many  flowers,  offering  by 
its  subdued  richness  and  unobtrusive  beauty  a  silent 
testimonial  to  the  alliance  of  wealth  and  good  taste — a 
combination  as  rare  as  it  is  desirable. 

"  Suppose,"  said  the  Secretary,  glancing  carelessly 
about,  "  suppose,  Estelle,  I  should  tell  you  to-morrow 
morning  that  all  this  was  gone  forever  and  there  was 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          131 

nothing  left.  That  you  and  I  must  begin  at  the  begin- 
ning with  just  each  other  and  our  bread  to  earn,  what 
then?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  caught  her  breath  and  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  with  an  indescribably  sweet  expression. 

"  I  think,  John,"  she  said  gravely,  "  I  should  be 
almost  glad,  because  I  might  then  perhaps — 

"  The  Russian  Ambassador  and  Countess  Alexis," 
announced  the  footman  impassively. 

"  Count  Valdmir." 

The  Secretary  and  Mrs.  Redmond  advanced  to  meet 
their  guests,  wrho  now  arrived  in  quick  succession  and 
comprised  the  principal  members  of  the  Diplomatic 
Corps  with  a  slight  sprinkling  of  Americans  prominent 
in  Washington  society  by  reason  of  politics  or  money. 

Among  the  latter  was  the  Hon.  Joshua  Grimes,  multi- 
millionaire, proprietor  of  the  Daily  Messenger,  and 
Member  of  Congress  from  South  Dakota.  As  Mr. 
Grimes  himself  would  doubtless  have  remarked,  he 
might  look  a  little  out  of  his  element  among  his  present 
associates,  but  when  an  emergency  arose  he  thought  he 
could  show  them  who  was  the  biggest  duck  in  the  puddle 
after  all.  And  Mr.  Grimes  believed  an  emergency  was 
near  at  hand. 

To  Lyndhurst  the  Member  from  South  Dakota  was  an 
unfailing  source  of  pleasure. 

"  He's  so  typical,  don't  you  know,"  the  Englishman 
confided  to  Miss  Byrd  on  one  occasion ;  "  as  a  rule  I 
have  been  disappointed  in  the  American  politician,  but 
Mr.  Grimes  is  most  satisfactory." 

Mr.  Grimes,  like  many  of  his  kind,  was  a  faddist,  and 
revelled  in  his  ability  to  indulge  himself  in  that  direc- 
tion; his  hobby  was  precious  stones,  and  again  and 


132  THE    WIFE    OF 

again  his  appraising  eye  sought  Mrs.  Redmond's  opals 
with  a  covetous,  wondering  expression,  as  though 
almost  resentful  of  her  right  of  possession,  and  his 
fingers  positively  itched  to  touch  them  and  assure  him- 
self of  their  reality. 

Dinner  ended,  he  gravitated  in  her  direction  that  he 
might  have  a  nearer  view  and  perhaps  glean  a  little  in- 
formation concerning  them.  Mrs.  Redmond  was  seated 
upon  a  small  divan  beside  Miss  Byrd,  who  was  chatting 
in  a  perfunctory  manner  with  Count  Valdmir,  while 
Monsieur  du  Pre  entertained  his  hostess  with  his  usual 
volubility.  As  Mr.  Grimes  drew  near  the  little  French- 
man politely  made  way  for  him,  but  smiled  as  he  ob- 
served his  courteous  gesture  pass  unnoticed  and  ex- 
changed a  quick  glance  with  Lyndhurst,  who  had  ap- 
proached with  the  Secretary  and  stood  facing  Mrs.  Red- 
mond as  she  sat  with  her  back  to  the  light,  her  rich 
gown  falling  in  graceful  folds  about  her  and  the  cres- 
cent in  her  hair  scintillating  brilliantly. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  leaving  so  early,  Mr.  Grimes," 
she  remarked,  under  the  impression  that  he  had  sought 
her  to  say  good-night. 

"I'm  a  man  with  one  idea,  Mrs.  Redmond,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Grimes,  sitting  down  abruptly,  "  it's  been 
so  with  me  all  my  life." 

"  Yes?"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  politely. 

"  First  it  was  money,  or,  rather,  making  it.  Well, 
I  got  all  I  wanted,  so  it  no  longer  interests  me.  Just 
now  it's  stones." 

"  Yes?"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  again. 

"  I've  studied  'em  a  good  bit,"  he  continued  slowly, 
"  and  I  flatter  myself  I'm  something  of  a  judge.  I 
know  a  good  thing  when  I  see  it,  and  being  a  collector 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         133 

I  want  one  like  it.  Now  I  have  some  pretty  good  opals, 
but  they  are  not  a  patch  on  those  of  yours.  Would  you 
mind  telling  me  where  you  got  them?" 

Count  Valdmir  gave  a  scarcely  perceptible  glance 
across  the  sofa  as  he  continued  to  discuss  the  ethics  of 
golf  with  Miss  Byrd,  and  Lyndhurst  paused  involun- 
tarily before  responding  to  the  polite  interest  of  the 
Secretary  regarding  Devonshire  cream.  The  opal  at 
Mrs.  Redmond's  throat  glowed  suddenly  scarlet,  a  blue 
flame  radiating  therefrom  as  though  flaunting  its  value 
before  less  costly  jewels. 

"  Do  you  like  them?"  she  replied  quietly.  "  I'm  so 
glad.  I  really  don't  know  where  they  came  from  origi- 
nally. They  are  simply  family  jewels,  to  be  handed 
down  from  one  generation  to  another." 

'  We  are  always  dazzled  when  Mrs.  Redmond  wears 
her  opals,"  said  Monsieur  du  Pre  with  a  slight  bow. 

'  I  never  saw  their  equal — never,"  said  Mr.  Grimes, 
who  was  plainly  much  impressed. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Count  Valdmir,  joining  suddenly  in 
the  conversation,  "  nor  I — except  once." 

"And  where  was  that?" 

"  In  Egypt,  at  the  Court  of  the  Khedive." 

The  Secretary  glanced  smilingly  at  his  wife,  while 
Lyndhurst  adjusted  his  monocle  and  brought  it  to  bear 
upon  Count  Valdmir;  and  by  common  consent  they 
relegated  Devonshire  and  its  products  to  the  background 
and  joined  the  group  about  the  divan. 

"  I  suspect  a  romance,"  cried  Isabel,  laughing;  "  let 
us  hear  it,  Count. ' ' 

"  Not  at  all  a  romance,"  he  replied,  addressing  Miss 
Byrd,  but  looking  beyond  her  at  his  hostess,  "  rather 
a  curious  superstition  regarding  them." 


134  THE    WIFE    OF 

"I'm  not  much  on  superstitions,"  remarked  Mr. 
Grimes  parenthetically;  "  I  reckon  I  never  had  time 
to  tamper  with  'em. ' ' 

"  Tell  us,  Count,"  urged  Isabel  again. 

"  Shall  I,  Madame?" 

"  Pray  do,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  quietly. 

"  The  Khedive's  opals,"  began  Count  Valdmir  slowly, 
"  which,  Madame,  are  quite  as  beautiful  as  yours  and 
very  similar,  are  not  an  enviable  possession.  In  fact, 
they  are  weighted  with  a  curse  which  brings  bad  luck 
to  the  one  who  wears  them." 

"All  opals  do,"  interrupted  Isabel,  "  unless  one's 
birthday  is  in  October." 

"  My  birthday  is  in  June,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  with 
a  little  laugh. 

"  In  the  beginning,"  resumed  Count  Valdmir,  "  or 
so  the  subjects  of  the  Khedive  believe,  these  opals  were 
translucent  stones,  pure  and  exquisite,  but  without  fire 
or  color.  They  were  the  property  of  a  Khedive's  favor- 
ite many  centuries  ago.  She  was,  of  course,  young  and 
beautiful,  but  apparently  indiscreet,  for  she  fell  in  love 
with  an  officer  of  the  Palace  Guard  and  even  raised  her 
veil  to  show  him  her  face.  How  she  happened  to  see 
him,  in  spite  of  the  restrictions  of  the  harem,  I  have 
forgotten,  also  how  she  managed  to  escape.  They  were, 
however,  discovered  floating  down  the  Nile  together  in 
a  boat  and  promptly  captured;  she  was  adorned  with 
the  opals.  The  man  was  executed." 

"And  the  girl,"  inquired  Isabel  as  he  paused  for  an 
instant,  "  what  of  her?" 

"  Her  hands  were  bound,"  he  replied  impressively, 
"  and  she  was  deprived  of  her  veil  and  turned  out  into 
the  streets,  still  wearing  the  jewels.  To  speak  with  her 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          135 

or  provide  her  with  food  or  shelter  was  punishable  with 
death,  and  she  wandered  about  the  streets  an  outcast 
until  she  succumbed  to  starvation.  Before  she  died  she 
cursed  the  stones  she  wore  and  the  man  who  gave  them 
to  her,  and  prayed  that  her  spirit  might  enter  into  them 
and  bring  bad  luck  to  those  who  wore  them,  even  as 
they  had  brought  disgrace  to  her." 

"A  very  vindictive  young  woman,"  said  Monsieur 
du  Pre  lightly. 

"And  so,"  continued  Count  Valdmir  slowly,  "  the 
opals  glow  and  fade  and  glow  again,  even  as  the  hearts 
of  those  who  wear  them  burn,  turn  cold,  and  grow  pas- 
sionately hot  once  more.  It  is  also  said " 

"  Well?"  inquired  Mrs.  Redmond  as  he  paused  un- 
certainly. 

'  It  is  also  said,  Madame,  that  the  Khedive's  opals 
are  most  brilliant  when  the  heart  of  the  wearer  is  most 
troubled  and  unhappy,  and  that  should  they  by  any 
chance  come  into  the  possession  of  an  absolutely  happy 
woman  they  would  lose  their  evil  power,  their  fiery 
beauty  would  vanish,  and  the  stones  themselves  would 
become  cracked  and  worthless." 

"  Rot!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Grimes  in  an  audible  aside 
while  moving  disgustedly  away,  and  the  little  group  dis- 
persed as  the  Secretary  proposed  music  as  a  balm  to 
their  lacerated  feelings,  and  escorted  Miss  Byrd  to  the 
piano. 

Lyndhurst  turned  to  speak  to  his  hostess,  but  the 
trivial  remark  he  had  intended  to  make  gave  place  to 
an  involuntary  pause  of  admiration.  Mrs.  Redmond 
leaned  back  among  the  pillows  on  the  divan,  a  red  spot 
glowing  on  her  cheeks  in  opposition  to  the  stones  about 
her  waist,  in  her  hair,  and  at  her  throat,  which  seemed 


136  THE    WIFE    OF 

to  simultaneously  put  forth  scarlet  flames  of  indigna- 
tion at  the  concluding  words  of  the  story. 

The  Englishman  pulled  at  his  long,  fair  mustache  and 
sought  for  an  appropriate  remark,  but  his  vocabulary, 
unlike  Monsieur  du  Pre's,  was  not  always  equal  to  the 
occasion.  So  he  merely  looked  down  on  the  picture, 
marvelling  at  the  length  of  the  curling  black  lashes 
fringing  the  white  lids  of  the  half-closed  eyes  and  un- 
consciously noting  each  detail  of  the  perfect  toilet,  from 
the  exquisitely  dressed  hair  to  the  tip  of  the  slipper  just 
visible  among  the  folds  of  the  white  lace  gown. 

And  then,  suddenly,  the  lashes  were  lifted  and  eyes, 
not  blue  to-night,  but  purple  and  misty  as  with  the 
shadow  of  suffering,  looked  directly  into  his.  They  said 
something  too,  and  Lyndhurst  wondered  greatly,  for 
the  eyes  appealed.  And  as  they  gazed  through  the 
monocle,  anxiously  questioning  the  heart  of  the  man, 
there  flashed  into  the  steady,  quiet  English  eyes  an 
answer  to  the  appeal.  It  was  born  without  his  consent 
or  volition,  it  is  true,  but  none  the  less  clear,  distinct, 
and  definite  in  its  purpose. 

Only  an  instant,  and  the  black  lashes  again  measured 
their  curling  length  against  the  cheek,  while  the  scarlet 
of  the  opals  faded,  and  Lyndhurst  removed  his  monocle 
and  carefully  polished  it  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Shall  we  join  the  others?"  said  Mrs.  Redmond, 
rising. 

And  Lyndhurst  bowed  quietly  as  he  returned  his 
handkerchief  to  his  pocket  and  replaced  his  monocle. 


THE    SECRETARY   OF    STATE         137 


XIV 


THE  Hon.  Cecil  Lyndhurst  signed  his  name  at  the 
end  of  the  page  and  breathed  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  The 
Metropolitan  Club  was  comparatively  empty  save  for 
a  few  faithful  landmarks  who  could  always  be  relied 
upon  to  be  present  at  that  time  in  the  afternoon,  and  he 
glanced  carelessly  around,  returning  a  casual  nod  or 
two,  before  picking  up  the  many  closely  written  sheets 
and  reading  them  over  carefully. 

"My  DEAR  BOBBT:  Do  you  remember  Egypt  and  our  tour  of 
duty  there?  Do  you  remember  that  fat  old  rascal  of  a  Khedive 
with  his  unctuous  voice  and  oily  smile?  I  have  not  thought  of 
it  all  for  years  until  quite  lately,  but  it  is  uppermost  in  my 
mind  just  now,  so  I  naturally  feel  inclined  to  write  to  you. 
After  all,  barring  a  few  mishaps,  it  was  a  jolly  enough  old  time 
to  look  back  upon.  Do  you  remember  the  frantic  excitement 
which  prevailed  when  the  jewels  were  lost  and  our  suspicions 
that  they  iiad  been  sold? 

"  Well,  Bobby,  the  Khedive's  opals  are  here  in  Washington. 
I,  myself,  have  seen  them.  What  is  more,  they  are  the  property 
of  the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State  (the  First  Minister  of  the 
Cabinet ) .  Don't  ask  me  how  she  got  them.  I  don't  know.  But 
I  do  know  she  wears  them  regally  and  they  suit  her  much  better 
than  they  did  that  corpulent  old  heathen  who  sported  them  the 
first  time  I  saw  them.  No,  I  am  not  mistaken.  They  are  the 
real  thing.  The  question  is,  how  came  they  here?  Naturally 
one  cannot  express  surprise  at  the  jewels  one's  hostess  elects  to 
wear,  but,  Bobby,  how  did  it  all  happen?  Mrs.  Redmond  is  a 
stunning-looking  woman,  very  much  to  the  manner  born.  I  dined 
there  last  night  and  she  wore  the  opals  again.  I  hope  I  did  not 


138  THE    WIFE    OF 

stare  unduly,  but  I  felt  as  though  my  eyes  would  bulge  out  of 
my  head.  The  Khedive's  opals.  Think  of  it!  And  she  wore 
them  as  calmly  as  though  they  were  a  string  of  glass  beads. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  unfinished  sketch  in  water-colors  of  a 
girl's  head  coming  out  of  clouds  that  we  found  among  poor 
Bertie  Hertford's  things  in  Berlin,  and  which  I  kept  because  I 
liked  it?  It  was  called  'Star  of  the  World,'  I  believe;  somehow 
I  always  think  of  that  when  I  see  Mrs.  Redmond.  Bobby,  she  is 
a  woman  who  dominates  you,  fascinates  you,  interests  you,  even 
without  the  Khedive's  opals.  With  them,  well — you  can  imagine 
the  combination. 

"  The  diplomatic  kettle  is  boiling  hard,  and  I  sometimes  fear 
it  may  splash  over  and  burn  somebody's  fingers.  The  Roostchook 
affair,  of  course,  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble;  du  Pr6  is 
here,  garrulous  and  inquisitive  as  of  old,  and  Russia  has  sent 
Valdmir  on  special  duty;  further  comment  on  that  score  is 
unnecessary.  Our  chief  has  assigned  to  me  the  very  unwelcome 
task  of  following  up  the  Roostchook  matter  and  getting  all  pos- 
sible information  concerning  it,  to  be  embodied  in  a  report  to 
the  Home  Office.  You  know  him  and  his  methods;  I  do  not  like 
them  and  may  ask  to  be  recalled. 

"  1  have  had  word  from  the  Paris  Secret  Service  that  that  old 
fox,  Colonel  St.  John,  has  been  traced  to  America,  and  have 
pulled  the  wires  on  this  side  to  track  him  to  his  covert.  You 
know  1  never  saw  him  but  once,  and  yet  I  think  I  would  recog- 
nize him  anywhere.  Well,  not  long  ago,  as  I  was  going  out  to 
dinner  one  night,  1  thought  I  saw  him.  I  gave  chase,  of  course, 
but  lost  him  in  an  alley,  got  bogged  in  some  deserted  garden, 
and  was  unpardonably  late  for  dinner  in  consequence.  Some- 
times I  feel  half  inclined  to  drop  the  whole  thing, — man-hunting 
is  not  to  my  taste, — but  then  I  think  of  Bertie,  poor  old  chap, 
with  that  nasty  hole  in  his  temple — the  first  Hertford  to  be- 
smirch the  name.  And  of  Evelyn.  One  does  not  like  to  see 
youth,  hope,  and  happiness  snatched  from  one's  twin  sister  at  a 
single  fell  swoop,  and  when  I  think  of  Evie's  eyes  and  lips  when 
she  first  heard  the  truth  about  the  man  she  loved — why,  then 
I  am  determined  Colonel  St.  John  and  his  daughter  shall  reap 
what  they  have  sown,  if  it  takes  every  pound  I  have  in  the  world 
to  bring  it  about. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          139 

"Except  for  diplomacy  (my  chosen  career)  I  should  be  enjoy- 
ing myself  immensely.  I  think  I  like  America  and  Americans, 
on  the  whole;  they  wear  well.  Get  a  detail,  Bobby,  and  come 
over.  Chuck  Berlin  and  the  stolid  frauleins  and  try  the  States 
with  their  Goddesses  of  Liberty.  You  will  find  the  change  in- 
spiring. Come  over,  old  man,  and  after  awhile  we  will  get  a 
leave  and  steal  away  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  prairies 
of  the  far  West  after  big  game.  I  like  this  country  and  want  to 
explore  it  further.  Come  and  help  me. 

"  LYNDHURST." 

"  P.  S. — I  am  sending  you  under  separate  cover  the  sketch 
'  Star  of  the  World.'  Please  try  and  find  out  if  it  is  a  fancy 
head,  and,  if  not,  the  name  of  the  model.  Bobby,  I  am  haunted 
by  those  opals. 

"  L." 


Lyndhurst  addressed  an  envelope  to  Lord  Robert 
Tresilian,  Embassy  of  Great  Britain,  Berlin,  and 
stamped  it  with  great  care.  Then  he  strolled  to  the 
window  and  was  enthusiastically  greeted  by  Monsieur 
du  Pre,  who  occupied  a  chair  commanding  an  unob- 
structed view  of  the  street.  The  Metropolitan  Club 
stands  on  a  corner  of  an  important  thoroughfare  and  is 
admirably  situated  for  the  edification  of  window-gazers. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  little  Frenchman  cordially, 
"  sit  down.  I  can  make  room.  It  is  really  entertaining, 
is  it  not?" 

"  What?"  inquired  Lyndhurst  idly. 

"  To  see  the  women  run  for  the  street-cars,"  returned 
the  other  with  a  chuckle ;  ' '  how  droll  they  look,  to  be 
sure,  and  how  vexed  they  are  when  just  as  they  think 
they  have  arrived  they  discover  they  have  not." 

Lyndhurst  laughed,  but  declined  the  chair. 

"  They  hear  the  car  approaching  around  the  corner," 
resumed  Monsieur  du  Pre,  with  evident  enjoyment  of 


140  THE    WIFE    OF 

his  theme,  "  then  they  clutch  their  skirts  tight  in  the 
back  with  one  hand  and  scuttle.  It  is  to  them  the  last 
car  in  the  world,  and  they  strive  nobly,  if  vainly,  for  it. 
When  it  passes  them  they  look  up  and  down  the  street 
with  a  vacant  smile,  as  though  to  say,  '  I  wonder  if 
anybody  saw  me  ? ' 

"  Now,  my  dear  Madame,"  he  continued,  apostro- 
phizing a  stout  female  strenuously  endeavoring  to  reach 
the  corner  in  time,  "  believe  me,  it  is  useless  as  well  as 
most  ungraceful.  Women  and  cows  should  never  run. 
Ah !  I  would  I  were  an  artist ! ' ' 

The  Englishman  laughed  again  as  the  stout  lady 
looked  furtively  about  with  the  vapid  smile  described 
by  his  companion,  while  the  car  sped  on  without  her. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  say,  du  Pre,"  he  inquired 
curiously,  "  that  you  sit  for  hours  in  that  window  just 
for  this?" 

"  Why  not?"  returned  the  little  Attache  dryly,  "  it  is 
amusing,  n'est  ce  pas?  It  is  also  harmless,  which  many 
amusements  are  not.  Then,  why  not  indulge  oneself? 
Also,  I  have  made  a  discovery ;  three  women  out  of  five 
are — what  is  it  you  say? — pigeon-toed  when  they  run. 
It  is  not  so  with  little  girls.  A  point  for  a  student  of 
femininity  to  elucidate.  Miss  Barlow  makes  her  debut 
this  afternoon,  do  you  attend?  No?  Perhaps  you  are 
wise;  she  is  a  plain  little  girl  with  a  poor  complexion, 
and  there  is  usually  more  apollinaris  than  champagne  in 
the  punch  they  serve." 

But  Monsieur  du  Pre  found  himself  declaiming  to 
space,  for  Lyndhurst  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  brown 
velvet  gown  and  a  coil  of  red-gold  hair  in  the  drug-store 
opposite,  and  lost  no  time  in  following  it. 

"  We  are  going  to  do  something  very  hazardous  as 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          141 

soon  as  Mrs.  Redmond  can  decide  on  the  proper  quan- 
tity of  orris  in  her  sachet,"  announced  Miss  Byrd  as 
he  greeted  them  with  genuine  pleasure  and  counterfeit 
surprise;  "  perhaps,  if  you  are  very  good,  we  will  take 
you  with  us." 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,"  he  returned 
solemnly.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  do  anything  very  desper- 
ate at  the  outset  of  my  career." 

Mrs.  Redmond  turned  from  the  counter  and  took  up 
her  muff. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  entirely  safe,  Mr.  Lyndhurst," 
she  remarked  cordially.  "  Miss  Byrd  is  going  to  take 
me  into  a  haunted  house  quite  near.  The  ghost  is  very 
genuine,  of  course,  and  very  terrible.  I  shall  be  glad  of 
your  protection." 

"  It  is  the  Octagon  House,"  explained  Isabel  as  they 
turned  into  Eighteenth  Street.  "  Perhaps  you  have 
already  been  there?" 

But  Lyndhurst  replied  absently  as  he  looked  about 
him  with  some  curiosity. 

"  Is  this  the  place?"  he  inquired  with  very  evident 
surprise  as  they  paused  before  the  old  house. 
"  Surely- 

He  checked  himself  abruptly  and  followed  his  guide 
up  the  white  stone  steps. 

"  Does  your  blood  curdle  in  your  veins?"  demanded 
the  girl  as  she  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered  the 
circular  hall.  "  See,  it  is  not  even  locked.  No  one 
would  ever  take  refuge  in  the  Octagon  House  at  night. ' ' 

"Is  it  quite  empty?"  inquired  Lyndhurst  after  a 
moment's  silence.  "Is  it  used  for  no  purpose  what- 
ever?" 

"  Can  you  not  see  that  it  is  a  deserted  house?"  re- 


142  THE    WIFE    OF 

plied  Isabel  quickly.  "  I  believe  there  is  a  janitor,  or 
caretaker,  but  one  never  meets  him.  What  do  you  think 
of  it,  Estelle?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  glanced  about. 

"It  is  charming!"  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  the 
curved  stairway,  with  the  broad  window  on  the  landing, 
and  the  quaint  old  stoves  on  each  side  of  the  hall.  ' '  Tell 
us  its  history,  Isabel." 

And  Isabel  told  them,  leading  the  way  from  room 
to  room,  until  she  came  to  the  dining-room,  which  bore 
traces  of  recent  occupancy,  for  cigar-ashes  lay  on  the 
single  deal  table  and  a  scrap  of  paper  covered  with  fig- 
ures had  fallen  to  the  floor. 

"  See,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  table,  "  how  incon- 
gruous it  looks.  The  caretaker  lives  on  the  top  floor ;  I 
suppose  he  uses  this  room  sometimes.  There  are  secret 
doors  every  here  and  there.  I  used  to  know  how  to  open 
some  of  them. ' ' 

She  pressed  a  panel  in  the  wall  beside  her  and  a  door 
slowly  swung  open,  leading  into  a  small,  triangular 
space,  with  a  large  window  looking  out  on  Eighteenth 
Street. 

"  There  is  also  a  door  going  into  the  hall,"  she  con- 
tinued, opening  it  as  she  spoke  and  leading  the  way 
out.  "  Very  few  people  know  of  these  passages.  See, 
here  is  another.  It  is  possible  to  go  from  the  hall  to  the 
attic  and  no  one  would  be  any  the  wiser. ' ' 

Lyndhurst  had  lingered  in  the  space  off  the  dining- 
room.  He  was  gazing  as  though  fascinated  at  the  frame 
of  the  window  where  the  wood  was  splintered  until  it 
was  rough  and  uneven,  and  at  a  rusty  nail  in  the  floor. 
At  last  he  carefully  untangled  several  long  strands  of 
hair  from  the  former;  they  were  red-gold  in  color  and 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          143 

glittered  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Stooping  has- 
tily, he  removed  something  from  the  nail ;  it  was  a  strip 
of  pale-blue  gauze.  The  Hon.  Cecil  folded  it  carefully 
and  put  it  in  his  card-case.  Then  he  joined  the  ladies 
on  the  landing,  where  they  stood  looking  through  the 
broad  window  into  the  weedy  old  garden  with  its  neg- 
lected brick  wall  and  muddy  walks. 

"  Back  of  the  garden,"  Isabel  was  saying,  "is  an 
alley." 

"  Which  runs  through  from  F  Street  to  New  York 
Avenue, ' '  supplemented  Mrs.  Redmond. 

"  Why,  Estelle,  how  do  you  know  so  much  about  it? 
One  would  think  you  had  been  here  before." 

"  I  have  never  been  in  the  house,  Isabel,  but  I  know 
the  neighborhood.  As  to  the  alley,  it  is  a  natural  suppo- 
sition that  it  leads  from  one  street  to  another,  is  it  not, 
Mr.  Lyndhurst?" 

"  Quite  correct  in  this  case,  Mrs.  Redmond,"  he  re- 
turned, watching  Isabel  closely.  "  I  know,  for  I  had 
occasion  to  go  down  it  one  stormy  night  not  long  ago. 
And  about  half-way  through  the  wall  is  broken,  leaving 
quite  a  gap  into  the  garden.  One  might  easily  crawl 
through  if  one  did  not  mind  the  mud  on  the  other  side." 

Mrs.  Redmond  moved  suddenly. 

"  Come,"  she  said  quickly,  "  we  are  wasting  time. 
It  is  getting  late  and  I  really  must  look  in  at  the  Bar- 
lows this  afternoon.  Take  us  upstairs,  Isabel,  and  let 
us  see  all  we  can." 

And  Isabel  led  the  way,  her  head  held  very  erect  and 
a  scarlet  spot  glowing  on  each  cheek. 

Up  on  the  top  floor  the  caretaker  sat  stupidly  on  the 
side  of  his  couch  and  rubbed  his  eyes  drowsily.  Colonel 
St.  John  had  become  a  very  busy  man  of  late.  He 


144  THE    WIFE    OF 

must  perform  the  duties  of  watchman  at  the  State  De- 
partment, and  maintain  his  establishment  in  Jackson 
City,  as  well  as  do  certain  necessary  drafting  work,  and 
he  found  this  multiplicity  of  duties  irksome.  The  sound 
of  voices  below  did  not  surprise  him,  as  the  old  house 
was  frequently  visited  before  nightfall  and  he  knew  he 
was  secure  from  interruption  in  his  remote  room.  He 
heard  the  visitors  pause  in  the  upper  hall  and  a  man's 
voice  comment  on  the  ingenious  plan  of  the  interior. 

"  You  must  see  the  basement,  Mr.  Lyndhurst,"  said 
a  woman's  voice.  "  I  think — 

But  what  she  thought  did  not  interest  Colonel  St. 
John.  He  sat  stolidly  upon  his  cot  and  put  his  hand  to 
his  head  as  though  endeavoring  to  recall  something. 
Lyndhurst.  The  name  seemed  suggestive.  Suddenly 
an  ashen  pallor  overspread  his  face  and  his  weak  lips 
trembled  uncontrollably;  the  fear  of  the  hunted  shone 
in  his  eyes  and  his  fingers  twitched  nervously. 

Colonel  St.  John  had  remembered. 

Voices  and  footsteps  retreated  and  finally  became  in- 
audible, although  he  listened  for  them  with  strained  at- 
tention. It  seemed  to  him  hours  that  he  sat  motionless 
upon  the  unsteady  cot,  although  it  was  in  reality  but  a 
few  moments  before  he  rose  and  stole  noiselessly  into  the 
hall.  His  impulse  was  for  instant  flight  and  he  wished 
to  assure  himself  that  the  coast  was  clear.  So  he  crept 
quietly  to  the  banisters  and  looked  over  them;  looked 
down  the  winding  stairway,  past  the  window  on  the  land- 
ing, into  the  hall  below.  He  also  looked  directly  into 
Mrs.  Redmond's  blue  eyes  as  she  stood  waiting  for  her 
companions  and  admiring  the  symmetrical  curves  of  the 
stairway  as  it  wound  its  way  to  the  third  floor. 

Beads  of  cold  perspiration  appeared  on  Colonel  St. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          145 

John's  forehead,  running  in  chilly  little  rivers  down  his 
neck  as  he  clutched  the  banisters  and  stared  as  though 
fascinated  into  the  eyes  raised  to  his,  in  which  the  first 
candid  surprise  was  gradually  replaced  by  a  shadow  of 
puzzled  uncertainty,  fast  changing  into  incredulous 
horror. 

Summoning  all  his  resolution  to  his  assistance,  the  old 
man  detached  himself  from  the  banisters  and  stumbled 
to  his  room. 

"  God  in  heaven!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  again  sank 
down  on  his  couch,  "  this  country  is  no  place  for  me." 

Isabel  and  her  companion,  returning  from  exploring 
the  basement,  found  Mrs.  Redmond  on  the  outside  steps, 
white-lipped  and  pallid. 

"  What  is  it?"  said  the  girl  quickly;  "  what  is  it, 
Estelle?" 

"  I  think,"  replied  Mrs.  Redmond  with  a  strange 
little  laugh,  ' '  I  think,  Isabel,  I  have  seen  the  ghost. ' ' 


10 


146  THE    WIFE    OF 


XV 


"  I  HAVE  seen  the  ghost,"  Mrs.  Redmond  repeated  as 
she  stood  alone  in  her  bedroom  an  hour  or  so  later. 

The  woman  whose  book  of  life  contains  no  turned-down 
page  is  doubtless  to  be  congratulated.  Her  record  is 
wonderfully  smooth  and  legible,  without  a  crumpled 
leaf  or  a  defacing  blot,  and  she  is  entitled  to  look  upon 
it  with  complacency  or  display  it  to  the  world  at  large. 
She  may  even  submit  it  to  the  eyes  of  her  dear  five  hun- 
dred friends,  and  be  quite  safe  in  so  doing,  for  they  will 
not  read  it.  It  will  not  interest  them. 

If,  however,  this  record  were  less  fair  and  legible, 
with  pages  creased  or  blotted,  and  here  and  there  one 
gone  entirely,  these  same  dear  friends  would,  in  all  prob- 
ability, scan  it  eagerly,  condemning  what  they  could  not 
understand  and  supplying  the  necessary  pages  with 
avidity.  Therefore  it  behooves  one  to  be  careful  of  one 's 
manuscript.  It  is,  on  the  whole,  wiser  to  be  immaculate 
than  interesting. 

Estelle  Redmond  wanted  to  be  alone.  Her  temples 
throbbed  painfully  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  tight- 
ening of  the  muscles  of  her  throat  and  a  desire  to  lie 
face  downward  among  the  pillows  on  her  couch  and  stay 
there  indefinitely. 

Through  the  half -open  door  she  could  see  her  maid 
moving  about  arranging  the  accessories  of  her  toilet,  and 
she  knew  that  in  a  few  minutes  she  must  dress  for  din- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          147 

ner.  Josephine  entered  quietly  and  laid  the  delicate 
gown  upon  the  bed,  touching  it  softly,  with  a  true 
Frenchwoman's  appreciation  of  its  texture. 

"  In  ten  minutes,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  and  the  maid 
withdrew. 

Twenty  minutes  passed,  and  when  she  again  ventured 
to  open  the  door  her  mistress  still  stood  beside  the  win- 
dow gazing  fixedly  out  into  the  night. 

"  Madame  perhaps  likes  to  watch  the  snow,"  re- 
marked Josephine  suggestively,  and  Mrs.  Redmond  ac- 
quiesced, although  for  the  first  time  aware  of  the  great, 
white  flakes  falling  silently. 

"  Josephine,"  she  said  after  a  long  pause,  while  the 
maid  brushed  out  her  dark  hair  and  skilfully  arranged 
it,  "it's  Christmas  Eve,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  replied  the  girl  wonderingly.  "  I 
sent  your  packages  as  you  directed,  and  James  will  take 
the  flowrers  to  the  hospitals  himself  early  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  Christmas  Eve,"  she  repeated  absently;  "  it  seems 
so  strange." 

Josephine  deftly  inserted  a  hairpin  and  looked  criti- 
cally at  the  result. 

' '  Madame  is  a  little  pale, ' '  she  observed  thoughtfully, 
"  just  a  touch  of  rouge  perhaps — a  mere  soupQon?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  anxiously  studied  her  reflection  in  the 
mirror  and  willingly  submitted  to  the  suggested  soupcon. 

"  I  must  look  well  to-night,"  she  said  quickly,  "  very 
well,  Josephine.  Are  you  sure  my  hair  is  just  right? 
It  seems  to  me  too  high  from  my  forehead. ' ' 

' '  Oh  Madame,  it  is  perfect.  Do  not  destroy  my  work, 
I  entreat  you,"  cried  Josephine  in  heartrending  accents, 
and  Mrs.  Redmond  made  no  further  suggestions,  but 


148  THE    WIFE    OF 

joined  her  husband  in  response  to  his  message  that  the 
carriage  had  been  waiting  for  some  time. 

The  Secretary  tucked  the  fur  robe  carefully  about  his 
wife — an  attention  he  never  delegated  to  the  footman. 

"  To  the  British  Embassy,"  he  said  as  he  leaned  back 
in  his  corner  thoughtfully.  The  day  had  brought  re- 
newed anxieties  and  the  prospect  of  the  evening  was  dis- 
tasteful to  him.  Mrs.  Redmond,  however,  sat  erect,  her 
hands  clinched  under  her  cloak  and  her  breath  coming 
and  going  quickly  between  her  parted  lips.  They  sat 
thus,  each  too  preoccupied  to  notice  the  unusual  silence 
of  the  other,  until  the  footman  threw  open  the  carriage 
door  and  they  became  aware  that  they  were  under  the 
porte-cochere  of  the  British  Embassy,  with  the  Lion  and 
the  Unicorn  struggling  valiantly  for  the  Crown  above 
them. 

Once  inside  the  big  red-brick  house,  one  realized  that 
the  Yuletide  was  indeed  at  hand,  for  holly  and  mistle- 
toe predominated  in  the  decorations,  and  the  pungent 
odor  of  evergreens  replaced  the  customary  perfume  of 
roses  most  acceptably. 

"  Really,"  remarked  the  Hon.  Cecil  Lyndhurst  as  he 
greeted  Miss  Byrd  preparatory  to  taking  her  in  to  din- 
ner, "  I  had  no  idea  when  I  saw  you  a  few  hours  ago 
that  I  was  to  have  this  pleasure.  It's  awfully  jolly  in 
Lady  Desmond  to  send  us  in  together — but  perhaps  you 
don 't  agree  with  me. ' ' 

And  Miss  Byrd  replied  that  it  was  very  jolly  indeed. 

"  You  know  a  small  dance  follows,"  he  continued  as 
they  entered  the  dining-room.  "  How  many  will  you 
give  me  ?  Remember,  it  is  Christmas  and  be  generous. ' ' 

' '  I  don 't  feel  like  dancing  to-night, ' '  returned  the 
girl ;  ' '  I  'm  tired,  I  think.  But  I  will  sit  out  the  first 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          149 

and  fifth  with  you,  if  that  will  do  as  well.  We  are 
leaving  early,  because  Aunt  Mary  wants  to  go  to  the  first 
service  to-morrow." 

Lyndhurst  turned  and  looked  at  her  curiously;  her 
manner  was  without  its  usual  vivacity  and  her  voice 
spiritless. 

"  Was  your  Christmas  doll  stuffed  with  sawdust?"  he 
inquired,  smiling,  "  or  has  the  season  begun  to  pall  upon 
you  already?" 

"  No,"  she  replied  with  a  little  laugh,  "  it's  not  that. 
I  believe  it's  the  shadow  of  the  Octagon  House.  If  I 
were  superstitious,  I  would  think  the  ghost  haunted  me 
or  had  east  a  spell  over  me.  I  wish  we  had  never  gone 
there.  How  did  it  affect  you  ? ' ' 

"  Well,"  he  responded,  "to  be  truthful,  I  think  it 
made  me  very  hungry. ' ' 

Isabel  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently  and,  turn- 
ing pointedly  to  her  other  neighbor,  began  to  exchange 
the  customary  polite  inanities  with  him,  while  Lynd- 
hurst reflectively  absorbed  his  soup  in  silence. 

It  was  Lady  Desmond's  private  opinion  that  although 
the  Secretary  of  State  might  be  a  brilliant  diplomat,  he 
was  a  singularly  stupid  conversationalist,  and  she  longed 
for  dinner  and  her  martyrdom  to  come  to  a  simultaneous 
end. 

"  Everyone  should  have  some  small  talk,"  she  com- 
plained later  when  discussing  the  subject  with  her  hus- 
band. 

And  the  British  Ambassador  remarked  that  he  be- 
lieved the  Department  of  State  was  getting  a  bit  in- 
volved, and  naturally  the  head  thereof  was  preoccupied. 

"  Madame,"  said  Monsieur  du  Pre  to  Mrs.  Redmond 
later  in  the  evening,  "  this  is  our  dance." 


150  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Pardon  me,"  interrupted  Count  Valdmir  quickly, 
' '  you  are  mistaken,  du  Pre ;  Mrs.  Redmond  promised 
me  this  dance.  Is  it  not  so,  Madame?" 

He  spoke  confidently,  and  Mrs.  Redmond  acquiesced 
with  a  brief  word  of  apology  to  the  little  Frenchman, 
who  bowed  profoundly  and  twisted  his  mustache  sav- 
agely as  he  withdrew. 

"  Poor  du  Pre,"  said  Count  Valdmir  with  a  short 
laugh,  "  it  is  unkind  to  rob  him  this  way,  but  the  music 
is  divine  and  the  floor  excellent." 

"  We  will  not  dance,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  quietly, 
"  I  wish  to  talk  to  you." 

"  I  am  flattered,  Madame." 

They  found  a  sofa  in  a  small  inner  drawing-room,  and 
he  carefully  arranged  a  cushion  at  her  back. 

"  I  wish  you  did  not  hate  me  so  cordially,"  he  said, 
with  a  ring  of  evident  sincerity  in  his  voice ;  ' '  it  is  not 
my  fault  that  you  are  a  victim  of  circumstances,  and 
I  do  not  hate  you. ' ' 

The  light  in  Count  Valdmir 's  eyes  would  have  sur- 
prised his  diplomatic  associates  had  they  been  present, 
but  Mrs.  Redmond  looked  beyond  him  through  the  holly- 
decked  room  with  no  apparent  realization  of  his  prox- 
imity. Suddenly  she  began  to  speak,  her  voice  expres- 
sionless and  mechanical. 

"  I  went  this  afternoon  to  the  Octagon  House,"  she 
said  slowly,  "  with  Miss  Byrd  and  Mr.  Lyndhurst." 

"  Yes?"  he  responded  interrogatively. 

Count  Valdmir 's  eyes  were  entirely  normal  now  and 
his  voice  calmly  interested. 

"  I  saw — him,"  she  continued  with  an  obvious  effort. 

A  moment's  silence  followed  as  he  caressed  bis  mus- 
tache without  replying. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          151 

"  You  told  me  he  was  dead,"  she  resumed  slowly, 
"  and  I  believed  you.  In  spite  of  everything,  I  believed 
you." 

"  I  also,  Madame,  believed  it  when  I  told  you.  I 
thought  my  authority  good.  I  assure  you — 

She  made  an  impatient  motion  with  her  hand,  as 
though  to  wave  aside  any  protestations. 

"  He  is,  of  course,  in  your  pay,"  she  said  quietly. 
' '  You  make  a  strong  combination,  Count. ' ' 

He  bent  forward  a  little  that  he  might  better  see  her 
face. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  saw  him,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  It 
was  not  my  intention  to  distress  you  in  this  way.  He 
did  not  know  you  were  in  America  and  I  should  never 
have  enlightened  him.  I  regret  it  extremely." 

"  You  were  always  solicitous  for  my  welfare,"  she 
remarked  dryly.  "  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  many  acts 
of  thought f ulness,  Count  Valdmir." 

"  Listen,"  he  interrupted  authoritatively,  "  I  can 
force  him  to  leave  the  country,  and  when  I  am  through 
with  him  he  shall  go.  Meanwhile,  he  will  not  annoy 
you — upon  one  condition." 

The  lace  upon  her  corsage  moved  quickly  and  she 
clasped  her  hands  with  a  sudden  involuntary  motion. 

' '  A  short  time, ' '  he  said  quietly,  ' '  a  few  weeks,  per- 
haps, and  it  will  all  be  over.  I  shall  have  returned  to 
Russia  and  he  shall  go  also.  I  swear  it.  What  are  a 
few  weeks  now  compared  to  the  years  which  are  to 
come?" 

"  The  long  years,"  she  returned  with  a  slight  shiver. 

He  watched  her  keenly,  his  eyes  narrowing  strangely. 

"  You  agree?"  he  said  abruptly. 

"  On  Christmas  Eve,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  as  though 


152  THE    WIFE    OF 

continuing  a  train  of  thought,  "  he  went  away  and  left 
me  alone  in  Paris,  without  friends  or  money — you 
know. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"  I  had  a  struggle,  but  I  lived  honestly.  After 
awhile  I  met  my  husband;  we  came  here  and  I  began  a 
new  life.  I  was  happy  until  I  saw  you,  and  now,  on 
Christmas  Eve,  he  too  appears  in  Washington. ' ' 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Count  Valdmir  as  she  paused  uncer- 
tainly, ' '  what  you  would  do  to  render  your  future  abso- 
lutely secure  and  happy?" 

Through  the  open  door  the  voice  of  the  British  Am- 
bassador could  be  heard  in  eloquent  narration  of  his 
prowess  on  the  hunting-field,  mingled  with  staccato 
notes  of  feminine  admiration  as  his  companion  endeav- 
ored to  appear  politely  interested.  Count  Valdmir  re- 
peated his  question,  compelling  Mrs.  Redmond  to  raise 
her  eyes  to  his  by  the  intensity  of  his  will. 

"  There  is  nothing  I  would  not  do,"  she  said  unwill- 
ingly, "  nothing." 

The  smouldering  fire  generally  kept  so  well  hidden 
shone  in  the  Russian's  eyes  for  the  second  time  that 
night. 

"  Then  you  agree?"  he  said  again,  his  voice  modu- 
lated to  careful  indifference. 

"  I  agree,"  she  replied  firmly,  "  God  forgive  me,  I 
agree. ' ' 

"  Not  later  than  Thursday,"  he  said  slowly;  "  you 
remember,  I  explained  the  reason  once  before.  I  shall 
expect  you.  On  Thursday  then?" 

"  On  Thursday,"  she  repeated  decidedly. 

The  British  Ambassador  had  finished  his  description 
of  the  hunt  and  passed  through  bound  for  the  card-room, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          153 

stopping  to  exchange  a  word  with  Mrs.  Redmond  en 
route. 

"  Oh,  you  know,  I  really  dislike  whist,"  she  replied 
as  he  invited  her  to  join  him,  "  and  I  play  such  a  miser- 
able game  you  would  soon  regret  your  rashness. ' ' 

And  the  Ambassador  laughed  and  passed  on. 

"  My  dance,  Mrs.  Redmond,"  said  Lyndhurst,  who 
had  followed  in  the  wake  of  his  chief.  "  There  is  no 
end  of  holly  and  mistletoe  in  the  ballroom,  and  every- 
body looks  quite  festive  except  Miss  Byrd,  who  says  she 
is  still  under  the  shadow  of  the  Octagon  House  and 
can't  be  persuaded  to  waltz.  I  hope  our  expedition  did 
not  affect  you  the  same  way. ' ' 

"Au  revoir,  Madame,"  remarked  Count  Valdmir, 
stooping  to  pick  up  her  handkerchief,  "  and  many 
thanks." 

Mrs.  Redmond  rose  and  moved  towards  the  door  with 
a  subdued  rustle  of  silken  skirts  and  the  dissemination 
of  an  odor  of  violets. 

"  By  the  way,  Count,"  she  said,  pausing  suddenly, 
"  I  will  send  you  that  translation  you  mentioned  the 
other  day.  It  is  quite  ready;  I  meant  to  have  sent  it 
before  this." 

"  Madame,"  he  replied,  bowing,  "  you  are  more  than 
kind.  I  shall  value  it  as  your  work." 

Josephine's  soupcon  of  rouge  was  quite  unnecessary 
as  Mrs.  Redmond  turned  away  and  entered  the  ballroom, 
where  she  chanced  to  encounter  the  Secretary  thank- 
fully depositing  a  stout  dowager  in  a  convenient  corner. 
She  willingly  assented  to  his  whispered  request  for  an 
early  departure,  and  heard  the  carriage  door  slam  with 
a  sigh  of  evident  relief. 

"  You  are  tired,  dear,"  he  remarked,  fondly  putting 


154  THE    WIFE    OF 

his  arm  about  her,  much  to  the  detriment  of  the  lace  and 
chiffon  on  her  gown. 

She  acquiesced  quietly,  and  the  drive  home  was  ac- 
complished in  silence. 

Contrary  to  her  usual  custom,  Mrs.  Eedmond  did  not 
go  to  the  library  with  her  husband  while  he  smoked  the 
cigar  without  which  he  never  felt  the  day  properly  con- 
cluded, and  listened  to  her  narration  of  its  events  and 
plans  for  the  morrow. 

Instead,  she  went  at  once  to  her  room  and,  hastily 
getting  into  a  dressing-gown,  dismissed  her  sleepy  maid 
with  a  kind  good-night  and  a  courteous  word  of  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  services.  Mrs.  Redmond  was  uniformly 
considerate  of  her  servants  and  correspondingly  popular 
with  them. 

Josephine  gone,  she  opened  a  drawer  in  her  jewel-case 
and  took  therefrom  a  small  leather  box,  shabby  and 
worn,  with  the  unmistakable  air  of  having  passed  through 
various  vicissitudes  and  suffered  much  in  transit.  An 
odd  assortment  of  treasures  was  revealed  when  the  cover 
was  lifted — newspaper  clippings,  bits  of  broken  jewelry, 
one  or  two  letters,  yellow  and  faded  with  time,  and  an 
old-fashioned  daguerrotype  in  its  velvet  case. 

Mrs.  Redmond  pressed  the  spring  of  the  latter;  it 
contained  the  pictures  of  a  man  and  a  woman  set  about 
with  brilliants.  The  woman  was  young  and  remark- 
ably lovely.  The  blue  eyes  which  looked  out  of  the 
faded  case  were  strangely  like  the  eyes  which  gazed 
down  at  them  and  softened  as  they  looked  until  a  mist 
hid  the  picture  from  view. 

This  mist  was  replaced  by  an  angry  sparkle  as  Mrs. 
Redmond  looked  from  the  woman  to  the  man.  Young, 
well-groomed,  and  handsome,  with  blue  eyes  also  and  an 


THE    SECRETARY   OP    STATE         155 

engaging  appearance  of  frankness,  he  seemed  a  fitting 
companion  to  the  girl  framed  beside  him;  yet  upon 
closer  scrutiny  the  chin  showed  weakness,  the  thin  lips 
both  cruelty  and  cunning,  and  one  felt  rather  sorry  for 
her,  after  all. 

"  The  ghost,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  aloud,  "  the  ghost 
who  is  responsible  for  much." 

She  closed  the  box,  walked  over  to  the  window,  and, 
lifting  the  heavy  curtain,  looked  out  into  the  street, 
her  forehead  pressed  against  the  glass. 

"  On  Thursday,"  she  said  mechanically,  "  on  Thurs- 
day." 

The  snow  had  ceased  to  fall  and  the  city  spread  away 
into  space,  draped  in  a  white  mantel  whose  beautifying 
touch  purified  the  most  unsavory  regions,  and  lent  an 
added  charm  to  the  dignified  buildings  of  the  Govern- 
ment and  handsome  dwellings  of  the  wealthy.  An  occa- 
sional carriage  passed;  now  and  then  a  party  of  holly- 
ladened  merrymakers  returned  from  a  late  expedition 
to  the  market;  and  not  far  away  the  boy  choir  of  St. 
John's,  returning  from  the  midnight  service,  chanted 
the  tidings  of  great  joy  brought  by  the  Star  in  the  East 
to  the  wise  men  of  old. 

The  Secretary  quickly  dispatched  his  cigar  and  fol- 
lowed his  wife  upstairs.  He  joined  her  at  the  window 
and,  putting  his  arm  about  her  waist,  listened  to  the 
sweet  young  voices  grow  gradually  fainter  until  they 
died  away  in  the  distance. 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  towards  men,"  he  re- 
peated softly  as  he  drew  the  curtain. 


156  THE    WIFE    OF 


XVI 


"  PEACE  on  earth,  good-will  towards  men." 

It  is  the  old  message  of  the  Christmas-tide  repeated 
annually  for  many  centuries,  yet  always  welcomed  and 
rejoiced  in. 

"  Peace  on  earth." 

God's  earth  to-day,  not  man's,  and  therefore  peaceful 
indeed.  The  very  atmosphere  is  different  from  yester- 
day and  unlike  what  may  be  expected  to-morrow ;  one 
should  drink  deeply  thereof,  for  it  is  soon  adulterated. 

"  Good-will  towards  men." 

For  this  one  day — good-will  towards  men.  Three 
hundred  and  sixty-four  days  for  envy,  hatred,  and 
malice ;  just  one  for  charity.  Therefore  make  the  most 
of  it;  forgive,  and,  if  possible,  forget. 

"  Good-will  towards  men." 

Colonel  St.  John  went  to  the  window  of  his  Jackson 
City  residence,  breathed  on  the  frosty  pane,  rubbed  it 
clear  with  his  coat-sleeve,  and  looked  out.  The  Potomac 
was  frozen  almost  solid  and  the  Long  Bridge,  outlined 
in  snow  and  fringed  with  icicles,  glittered  in  the  sun- 
shine, while  above  the  snow-draped  roofs  and  steeples 
the  Washington  Monument  merged  its  stately  shaft  into 
the  horizon. 

Colonel  St.  John  had  an  eye  for  the  beautiful  and 
admired  the  picture  even  while  he  cursed  his  ill-luck, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          157 

for  destiny  obliged  him  to  walk  across  that  glistening 
bridge,  and  it  was  very  slippery. 

The  slothfulness  of  Jackson  City  by  daylight  bears 
but  little  resemblance  to  its  activity  by  night,  and  but 
few  pedestrians  were  abroad  to  wish  Colonel  St.  John 
a  Merry  Christmas  as  he  closed  and  locked  his  front 
door,  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and  sallied  forth. 
One  small  voice  did  indeed  venture  to  salute  him  with 
the  "  Chris 'mas  gif  '  of  the  South,  and  he  flung  a 
silver  dollar  at  the  little  darky,  who  sprang  gleefully 
to  pick  it  up,  astonished  at  the  munificence  of  the  gift. 
Colonel  St.  John  felt  warmer  and  more  cheerful  as  he 
parted  with  the  coin ;  he  almost  believed  himself  a  well- 
disposed,  charitable  fellow,  after  all,  but  a  victim  of 
circumstances. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the 
Octagon  House  and  pushed  open  the  front  door,  with  a 
furtive  look  up  and  down  the  street,  as  though  fearing 
someone  would  question  his  right  of  entrance.  The 
cheerless  exterior  of  the  old  red-brick  structure  pre- 
sented a  marked  contrast  to  the  neighboring  residences, 
with  wreaths  of  holly  in  their  windows  and  the  inde- 
finable air  of  festivity  inseparable  from  the  season. 

The  Octagon  House  was  not  decked  with  holly,  nor 
were  any  evidences  of  good-will  apparent  to  the  casual 
observer.  Peaceful  indeed  it  might  be  considered,  if 
by  peace  is  understood  the  pall  of  silence  which  envelops 
long-unused  rooms,  where  the  fall  of  a  footstep  rever- 
berates with  hollow  distinctness  and  the  sound  of  a  voice 
awakens  unexpected  and  unwelcome  echoes,  which  die 
away  reluctantly,  as  though  unwilling  to  become  even 
an  integral  portion  of  the  oppressively  obtrusive  space. 

Colonel  St.  John  shivered  as  he  mounted  the  winding 


158  THE    WIFE    OF 

staircase  and  hastened  towards  the  room  at  the  top  of 
the  house  where  he  had  placed  a  cot  and  a  few  articles 
of  furniture,  among  them  an  oil-stove  whose  warmth  he 
felt  would  be  most  acceptable.  He  had  an  engagement 
that  morning  which  admitted  of  no  postponement,  also 
a  bit  of  unfinished  work  which  must  be  completed  where 
he  felt  secure  from  interruption,  so  he  lighted  his  stove 
and,  drawing  the  small  table  close  to  it,  bent  anxiously 
over  the  sheet  of  tracing-paper  with  its  unfinished  out- 
lines and  marginal  notes  which  awaited  his  attention. 

He  worked  carefully  for  some  minutes,  then  dropped 
his  pen  and  pushed  back  his  chair  impatiently.  The 
oil-stove  smoked  and  filled  the  atmosphere  with  its  pun- 
gent and  unpleasant  odor,  but  Colonel  St.  John  sat 
absorbed  in  thought,  unconscious  of  his  surroundings 
and  oblivious  of  the  fleeting  moments.  After  a  while 
he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  shabby  leather  case  and 
studied  its  contents  with  interest.  It  contained  two  like- 
nesses— one  a  woman  in  the  full  glory  of  her  young 
beauty,  the  other  a  laughing  baby.  Colonel  St.  John 
glanced  casually  at  the  woman,  but  scrutinized  the  baby 
closely. 

"  The  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State,"  he  ejaculated 
aloud,  "  his  wife." 

Laying  the  open  case  upon  the  table  at  his  side,  he 
resumed  his  pen  while  his  lips  parted  in  a  slow,  sinister 
smile  and  his  close-set  eyes  narrowed  until  they  seemed 
like  mere  slits. 

Meanwhile  downstairs  the  front  door  swung  slowly 
open;  it  was  not  essential  to  be  provided  with  a  key 
in  order  to  enter  the  Octagon  House.  Indeed,  its  lock 
had  long  ago  refused  to  work  and  no  one  had  considered 
it  necessary  to  repair  it. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          159 

The  visitor  advanced  to  the  rear  of  the  hall  with  the 
manner  of  one  familiar  with  his  surroundings,  and, 
passing  through  a  door  at  the  left,  began  his  ascent  to 
the  top  by  means  of  a  back  stairway  so  constructed 
as  to  be  entirely  separate  and  apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
house.  He  moved  quietly,  picking  his  way  with  care 
and  occasionally  pausing  to  brush  a  bit  of  dust  or  cobweb 
from  his  coat,  for  the  spiders  had  long  been  busy  on  the 
old  back  stairs. 

And  again  the  front  door  opened  and  shut,  its  creak- 
ing hinges  complaining  fretfully  of  overwork. 

Out  in  the  garden  the  snow  lay  smooth  and  spotless, 
covering  even  the  broken  wall  with  its  kindly  mantle  of 
purity.  Had  anyone  glanced  from  the  large  window  on 
the  landing,  they  might  have  seen  a  woman  force  her 
way  through  the  gap  and  over  the  unsteady  pile  of 
bricks  at  its  base.  She  moved  quickly,  holding  her  long, 
dark  cloak  closely  about  her  and  advancing  with  the 
steady  determination  which  permits  not  even  a  glance 
to  the  right  or  the  left  lest  progress  may  thereby  be 
retarded. 

The  rusty  latch  of  the  back  door  yielded  reluctantly, 
to  her  touch  as  she  slipped  quietly  inside  and  looked 
about.  She  was  quite  alone. 

The  spiders  on  the  back  stairs  told  no  tales  of  the  dis- 
turber of  their  peace  who  had  so  recently  passed  that 
way,  and  the  stairs  themselves  looked  dark  and  unin- 
viting, so  she  hesitated  a  moment,  then  went  into  the 
front  hall,  stopping  now  and  then  to  listen  and  drawing 
her  cloak  closer,  as  though  to  keep  the  penetrating  chill 
of  the  place  from  reaching  her  heart. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  paused,  her  hand  on  the 
rail.  Was  that  a  noise? 


160  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Only  a  mouse  in  the  wall,"  she  murmured  as  she 
began  the  ascent. 

Colonel  St.  John,  bending  over  the  little  table,  was 
conscious  of  a  draught.  A  blast  of  cold  air  struck  the 
back  of  his  neck  unpleasantly,  and  with  a  muttered 
malediction  on  the  untrustworthy  latch  of  the  door  he 
rose  to  investigate. 

A  woman  stood  on  the  threshold,  tall  and  slender, 
with  both  hands  raised  to  untie  the  dark  veil  which 
obscured  her  face.  The  hands  shook  slightly  and  the 
knot  proved  obstinate,  but  at  last  the  veil  was  removed 
and  she  looked  full  at  the  old  man,  who  stared  incredu- 
lously in  return,  his  jaw  dropping  and  his  lips  twitching 
uncontrollably. 

"  Estelle?"  he  ejaculated  at  last,  "  Estelle?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  slowly,  "  Estelle." 

' '  You  are  alone  ? "  he  whispered  apprehensively,  after 
several  ineffectual  efforts  to  speak. 

"  Quite  alone,"  she  returned  coldly.  "  I  am  in  your 
power — not  you  in  mine." 

Colonel  St.  John's  countenance  resumed  its  normal 
expression,  and  he  placed  a  chair  for  his  guest  with  a 
suggestion  of  the  courtly  manner  for  which  he  had  once 
been  famous. 

"  So  you  recognized  me  yesterday?"  he  remarked 
easily,  with  the  casual  manner  of  one  desirous  of  making 
conversation. 

She  nodded  absently. 

"  It  was  most  kind  in  you  to  look  me  up  so  soon," 
he  continued  cordially;  "  I  confess,  I  did  not  expect 
it." 

She  opened  her  bag  and  produced  a  blank  check, 
which  she  folded  unconsciously  into  little  squares. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          161 

' '  How  much  will  you  take  to  leave  the  country  ? ' '  she 
inquired  curtly. 

Colonel  St.  John  adjusted  the  wick  of  his  oil-stove 
carefully  and  eyed  the  bit  of  pink  paper  with  genuine 
admiration. 

' '  The  world  has  gone  well  with  you,  my  dear, ' '  he  re- 
marked thoughtfully.  "  I  rejoice  in  your  good  fortune. 
Perhaps  some  reflected  glory  may  fall  on  me,  though  as 
yet  I  have  not  profited 

A  board  in  the  hall  without  creaked  suddenly  and  ho 
crossed  quickly  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  The  passage 
was  quite  empty,  and  Colonel  St.  John  shrugged  his 
shoulders  sceptically  as  he  returned  to  his  visitor. 

"  I  am  expecting  Valdmir, "  he  remarked  casually. 
"  I  thought  he  might  perhaps  have  arrived." 

Estelle  Redmond  had  risen,  and  as  the  old  man  ad- 
vanced lifted  her  eyes  to  his — eyes  no  longer  blue  and 
cold  with  a  spark  of  anger  in  them,  but  purple  and 
softened  by  a  mist  of  tears. 

"  Father,"  she  whispered  involuntarily,  "  father." 

His  brow  contracted  suddenly  and  he  sank  into  the 
chair  beside  the  table,  while  she  bent  over  him,  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  and  a  loose  tendril  of  her  hair  brush- 
ing his  wrinkled  cheek. 

"  Father,"  she  repeated  gently,  "  you'll  go  away, 
won 't  you  ? 

"  I  have  been  so  happy,"  she  continued,  after  waiting 
a  moment  for  a  reply.  "I'm  married,  had  you  heard? 
I  never  met  an  honorable  man  before — I  don't  think  I 
even  knew  the  word  until  my  husband  introduced  me  to 
it.  I  never  realized  the  way  good  men  looked  at  things, 
— things  we  did,  you  know, — and  I  would  rather  die 
than  have  him  hear  about  them." 

11 


162  THE    WIFE    OF 

Somewhere  outside  a  sleigh  passed,  the  sound  of  its 
jingling  bells  forcing  itself  obtrusively  into  the  quiet 
room. 

As  she  again  paused  for  a  reply  she  noticed  the  open 
case  upon  the  table,  with  its  rubbed  and  faded  cover 
and  the  two  faces,  the  woman  and  the  baby.  Estelle 
carefully  brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from  the  face  of  the 
woman. 

"  For  her  sake,"  she  said  softly,  "  let  me  be  happy— 
for  her  sake,  father." 

Colonel  St.  John  raised  his  head  and  looked  beyond 
his  daughter;  a  quiet  movement  of  the  doorknob  had 
arrested  his  attention,  and  his  eyes  focussed  anxiously 
upon  it.  Very  slowly  the  door  opened,  a  little  way  only, 
but  far  enough  for  the  old  man  to  see  distinctly  the 
finger  placed  on  the  lips  of  the  listening  face — a  finger 
imperatively  commanding  silence,  even  as  the  eyes  which 
met  his  managed  to  convey  a  threat.  Colonel  St.  John 
made  an  effort  to  speak,  and  shook  off  the  little  hand 
which  lay  on  his  as  though  fearing  it  might  convey  some 
subtle  and  undue  influence. 

"  You'll  go  away,"  said  the  soft  voice  close  to  his 
ear;  "  every  month  I'll  send  you  money,  and  you  can 
live  somewhere  quietly  and  honestly.  My  life's  happi- 
ness is  at  stake — you  understand,  don't  you?" 

Yes,  he  understood.  Colonel  St.  John  was  not  lacking 
in  intelligence  and  fully  appreciated  the  situation.  It 
seemed  to  him  to  contain  a  surprising  number  of  possi- 
bilities, and  he  could  not  help  wishing  he  had  been 
allowed  to  deal  with  it  alone  and  unobserved.  As  it  was, 
however,  the  door  moved  ever  so  little  and  he  felt  it  was 
incumbent  upon  him  to  speak. 

"  Was  it  quite  prudent  in  you  to  come  here   this 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          163 

morning?"  he  inquired  with  the  impersonal  manner  of 
a  wholly  disinterested  observer. 

And  his  daughter  straightened  herself  abruptly  with 
a  disappointed  sigh. 

"  I  might  have  known,"  she  said  bitterly,  "  I  might 
have  known." 

The  folded  check  fell  upon  the  floor  and  he  stooped 
furtively  to  pick  it  up. 

"  It's  not  signed,"  he  whispered  eagerly,  coming 
closer.  "  Estelle,  you've  forgotten  to  sign  it,  my — my 
dear." 

The  door  was  wide  open  now,  but  the  whole  attention 
of  the  old  man  was  concentrated  upon  the  bit  of  creased 
pink  paper. 

'  Here's  a  pen,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  table; 
"  you  like  a  stub,  I  know.  You  see,  I  still  remember 
your  tastes,  my  dear — a  stub  pen  and  very  black  ink. ' ' 

He  smoothed  out  the  check  carefully  and  dipped  the 
pen  in  the  ink. 

"  Now,"  he  exclaimed  persuasively,  "  now,  my  dear 
child." 

But  the  hand  which  closed  upon  the  pen  was  larger 
than  Colonel  St.  John  expected,  and  he  turned  swiftly, 
his  assured  manner  giving  way  to  a  deprecating  smile  as 
Count  Valdmir  tore  the  check  in  bits  and  contempt- 
uously tossed  aside  the  fragments. 

"  So ! "  said  that  gentleman,  ' '  is  the  greed  for  money 
so  great  you  chose  to  ignore  the  fact  I  could  both  see 
and  hear?" 

"A  family  matter,  Count,"  the  Colonel  stammered 
uneasily,  "  a  little  gift  from  my  daughter — nothing 
more. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  had  crossed  the  room  and  stood  lean- 


164  THE    WIFE    OF 

ing  her  forehead  against  the  dusty  pane  of  the  closed 
window,  whose  broken  shutter  admitted  little  rays  of 
light,  which  seemed  mere  suggestions  of  the  cheerful 
world  without  in  its  holiday  array.  The  Russian 
watched  her  a  moment  in  silence,  then  followed  her 
quietly. 

"  Had  you  not  better  go  home?"  he  suggested  gently. 
' '  Believe  me,  it  was  a  mistake  to  come  here.  You  should 
have  trusted  me.  I  did  not  intend  he  should  annoy  you, 
except — 

"  Well?"  she  said  as  he  paused  uncertainly,  "  ex- 
cept?" 

' '  Except  as  a  last  resort, ' '  he  returned  slowly.  ' '  You 
understand  ? ' ' 

She  did  not  reply,  and  the  old  man  behind  them  bent 
sharply  forward,  almost  losing  his  balance  in  his  anxiety 
to  hear  the  whispered  words. 

' '  It  is  not  easy  to  outwit  me, ' '  continued  Count  Vald- 
mir  after  a  moment 's  silence,  ' '  nor  is  it  safe  to  defy  me. 
I  set  a  price  upon  your  happiness,  and  it  remains  with 
you  to  pay.  Is  it  worth  the  price  ? ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  slowly  turned  and  faced  the  two  men. 
The  shadows  beneath  her  eyes  showed  dark  and  distinct, 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  pallor  of  her  cheeks,  which 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  lost  their  rounded  contour  and 
become  chalk-like  and  hollow.  Ignoring  the  Russian  at 
her  side,  she  addressed  Colonel  St.  John,  who  involun- 
tarily bent  his  gaze  upon  the  floor  and  shuffled  his  feet 
uneasily,  after  the  manner  of  one  who  would  fain  escape 
an  ordeal. 

' '  I  came  here  this  morning, ' '  she  said,  ' '  intending  to 
bribe  you  to  leave  the  country,  but  when  I  saw  you  I 
remembered  you  were  my  father  and,  after  all,  the  tie 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          165 

of  blood  is  strong.  I  appealed  to  you  for  my  mother's 
sake,  for  I  always  cherished  the  thought  you  must  once 
have  loved  her.  I  see,  however,  I  was  wrong. ' ' 

"  Oh,"  she  continued,  her  voice  breaking  uncontrol- 
lably, "  isn't  it  enough  to  have  ruined  your  own  life? 
Is  it  necessary " 

"  Hush,"  interrupted  Count  Valdmir  imperatively. 

He  stepped  softly  into  the  hall  and  listened  intently. 
Returning  after  a  moment's  breathless  silence,  he  care- 
fully closed  the  door  and  attempted  to  turn  the  key. 

'  It  won't  lock,"  said  the  old  man  tremulously,  "  it 
won't  lock." 

"  Be  silent,"  commanded  Count  Valdmir  in  a  sharp 
whisper. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  was  distinctly  audible  upon  the 
bare  boards  of  the  floor  below — wandering  footsteps 
apparently,  with  no  especial  destination  in  view,  for 
they  ceased  entirely  now  and  then  as  though  undecided 
whether  to  retreat  or  advance,  and  finally  could  be  heard 
descending  the  stairs  with  many  pauses  and  an  evident 
inclination  to  return  to  the  upper  regions. 

Count  Valdmir  nodded  towards  a  partly  open  door 
at  his  left. 

'  Does  that  room  communicate  with  the  hall?"  he 
inquired  abruptly. 

Colonel  St.  John  shook  his  head. 

"  Its  only  outlet  is  through  here,"  he  replied. 

The  footsteps  ceased  for  a  moment,  then  recom- 
menced, this  time  again  in  the  ascendant. 

"  Quick!"  said  the  Russian,  touching  Mrs.  Redmond 
on  the  shoulder  and  pointing  to  the  inner  room.  As  she 
hesitated  a  moment,  looking  distrustfully  at  the  faces  of 
the  two  men,  he  leaned  forward  and  whispered  a  single 


166  THE    WIFE    OF 

word.  Mrs.  Redmond  lingered  no  longer.  With  an 
apprehensive  glance  towards  the  hall  she  hastened  into 
the  bare  little  inner  room  and  heard  the  click  of  the 
latch  as  the  door  closed  after  her. 

With  a  quick  revulsion  of  feeling  she  put  out  her  hand 
to  again  open  the  door,  but  discovered  only  the  blank 
surface  presented  by  the  inside  of  an  ordinary  closet 
door.  There  was  no  knob,  and  the  latch  was  on  the 
other  side. 

Colonel  St.  John  smiled  as  he  heard  the  snap  of  the 
latch.  In  obedience  to  a  gesture  of  his  companion,  how- 
ever, he  made  no  remark,  but  turned  a  strained  atten- 
tion to  the  footsteps,  which  drew  nearer,  passed  the  door, 
paused  on  the  upper  landing,  repassed,  and  again  de- 
scended the  stairs,  briskly  now,  as  one  having  a  definite 
purpose  in  view. 

As  the  sound  became  gradually  fainter  Count  Vald- 
mir  cautiously  reconnoitred.  Returning  after  an  ab- 
sence of  some  minutes,  he  beckoned  the  old  man  to 
follow  him,  and  together  they  descended  the  stairs  until 
they  reached  the  large  window  on  the  first  landing. 

' '  Look, ' '  he  said,  indicating  the  garden  below. 

And  Colonel  St.  John  looked.  He  saw  an  expanse 
of  snow,  white  and  unbroken,  save  where  someone  had 
recently  passed  from  the  gap  in  the  wall  to  the  old  back 
door.  He  saw  also  a  man  walking  towards  the  wall, 
moving  slowly  with  bent  head,  as  though  deep  in 
thought. 

"  Lyndhurst,"  said  the  Russian  briefly. 

The  old  man  made  an  inarticulate  sound,  somewhere 
between  a  gasp  and  a  snarl,  and  shrank  back  against 
the  baluster. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  he  is  doing?" 


Colonel  St.  John  shook  his  head,  speech  having  for 
the  time  deserted  him. 

"  He  is  following  your  daughter's  footprints  in  the 
snow. ' ' 

"  Devil  take  the  women,"  muttered  Colonel  St.  John, 
suddenly  recovering  the  use  of  his  tongue,  ' '  they  always 
make  complications." 

He  wiped  his  moist  brow  with  his  handkerchief  and 
vainly  endeavored  to  control  the  shaking  of  his  hand, 
while  his  companion  watched  him  coolly,  a  faint  smile 
curving  his  lips  and  a  contemptuous  expression  in  his 
half-closed  eyes. 

"America  is  getting  hot,  eh,  Colonel?"  he  remarked 
quietly;  "  it  behooves  you  to  finish  my  work  and 
vanish. ' ' 

'  Well,"  he  resumed,  after  waiting  in  vain  for  a 
reply,  "  there  is  not  much  more  to  do.  The  crisis, 
Colonel,  is  approaching.  Do  you  go  on  duty  as  watch- 
man to-day?  Good.  The  Secretary  has  in  his  posses- 
sion the  synopsis  of  the  President's  policy  in  regard  to 
the  Roostchook  matter.  I  desire  the  paper  in  my  pos- 
session within  the  next  few  days.  It  is  in  his  private 
desk  and  no  doubt  locked,  but  those  are  simple  obstacles 
to  an  expert  like  yourself." 

"  Suppose,"  said  the  old  man  slowly,  "  suppose, 
Count,  I  cannot  find  it.  What  then?" 

'  Why  dwell  on  unpleasant  subjects,  Colonel?  The 
details  would  be  painful. 

"  One  thing  more,"  he  continued,  and  Colonel  St. 
John  gazed  fixedly  at  the  double  row  of  large  and  small 
footprints  in  the  snow  with  the  manner  of  one  who 
expects  to  take  to  his  heels  at  any  moment.  As  Count 
Valdmir  paused  impressively,  however,  he  turned  his 


168  THE    WIFE    OF 

head  and  with  an  obvious  effort  recalled  his  wandering 
attention. 

"  Yes?"  he  said  anxiously. 

The  Russian  came  closer  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  old 
man's  shoulder,  his  fingers  fastening  with  a  grip  as  of 
steel. 

"  You  are  not  to  annoy  Tier,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not 
have  it.  No  extorting  money,  no  blackmail — 

"  Count  Valdmir  perhaps  prefers  to  keep  such  privi- 
leges for  himself,"  returned  the  other  with  a  sneer. 

The  fingers  on  his  shoulder  tightened  until  he  winced 
involuntarily. 

' '  Sometimes, ' '  said  Count  Valdmir  through  his  teeth, 
' '  I  wonder  I  can  soil  my  hands  with  a  tool  like  you. ' ' 

The  usual  dull  apathy  of  Colonel  St.  John's  eyes  was 
replaced  by  a  gleam  of  hatred,  but  he  made  no  reply  and 
his  companion  curtly  continued: 

"  You  will  do  my  work,  and  when  I  am  through  with 
you  leave  the  country.  You  will  not  attempt  to  see  her 
again  or  to  communicate  with  her.  It  is  wise  to  accede 
to  my  terms,  Colonel;  Lyndhurst  and  the  police  are 
ever  ready,  and  I  should  have  no  scruples  on  your 
behalf.  You  shall  not  annoy  her — do  you  understand?" 

Colonel  St.  John  shook  himself  free  of  the  restraining 
hand. 

"If  I'm  not  to  see  her  again,"  he  said  sullenly, 
"  who  is  to  let  her  out  of  that  room?" 


Estelle  Redmond,  alone  in  the  little  room,  heard  the 
two  men  go  downstairs  and  fully  realized  her  position. 
Sinking  upon  the  floor,  she  rested  her  head  upon  the 
dusty  window-ledge  and  tried  to  think.  Was  it  all 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          169 

coming  to  an  end?  Was  this  to  be  the  outcome  of  the 
marriage  which  had  opened  to  her  a  new  life,  made 
beautiful  by  the  sheltering  care  of  a  great  and  unselfish 
love?  Must  her  past  life  be  laid  bare  before  her  hus- 
band's eyes?  Must  he  know  of  a  child  who  had  had  no 
childhood?  Of  a  girl  taught  to  value  the  beauty  with 
which  she  was  endowed  because  of  the  power  that  ac- 
companied it — a  girl  without  a  girlhood — a  girl  familiar 
with  the  seamy  side  of  life? 

Must  he  know  of  her  father's  vocation?  Of  hasty 
flights  from  city  to  city  when  the  police  became  trouble- 
some? Was  it  necessary  he  should  hear  the  story  of 
Berlin?  Of  Bertie  Hertford  with  his  ingenuous  boyish 
face  and  frank  confidence  in  mankind  in  general? 
Bertie  Hertford,  who  lost  his  all  over  the  green  baize 
card  tables  in  her  father's  salon  and  who,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  moon  and  her  own  blue  eyes,  confided  the 
state  secret  of  his  mission  to  Berlin,  which  she  in  turn 
retailed  to  her  father,  who  sold  it  to  the  Russian  Gov- 
ernment for  much  gold? 

Estelle  St.  John  at  eighteen  had  not  understood  why 
she  was  delegated  to  extract  this  information  and  had 
exulted  in  her  ability  to  obtain  it.  Estelle  Redmond 
at  twenty-eight  understood  fully,  and  felt  to  the  utmost 
the  unavailing  bitterness  of  regret. 

The  tragic  death  of  Hertford,  with  the  note  addressed 
to  herself,  had  been  a  terrible  awakening.  She  had 
carried  it  to  her  father  with  blanched  cheeks  and  tear- 
dimmed,  wondering  eyes.  WThat  did  it  mean?  And 
Colonel  St.  John  had  laughed  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"  My  dear,"  he  had  said  indifferently,  "  all  young 
men  are  fools.  Your  eyes  and  complexion,  and,  above 


170  THE    WIFE    OF 

all,  your  ingenuous  manner,  constitute  my  best  stock  in 
trade." 

Estelle  remembered  it  all  with  sickening  distinctness 
as  she  pressed  her  white  forehead  against  the  dusty 
window-sill : 

The  headlines  in  the  papers,  the  slow  awakening  to 
the  meaning  of  her  life,  the  arrival  of  Lyndhurst  in 
Berlin  with  his  declared  intention  of  investigation  and 
punishment,  and  their  own  hasty  departure  at  night  for 
Paris. 

She  remembered  her  life  in  Paris,  deserted  by  her 
father,  almost  penniless  and  quite  desperate.  The  two 
years  of  painful  effort  to  live  by  honest  labor,  and  then 
the  chance  meeting  with  her  husband,  and  his  generous 
answer  to  her  reluctant  offer  to  tell  him  her  history. 

"If  it  hurts  you  to  tell  me,  sweetheart,  don't  do  it. 
Forget  everything.  Nothing  matters  but  dishonor,  and 
you  could  not  look  at  me  with  those  true  blue  eyes  ir 
all  was  not  well.  Let  us  be  happy  in  each  other. ' ' 

"  Nothing  matters  but  dishonor."  The  words  rang  in 
her  ears. 

Must  she  lose  everything  rather  than  make  one  bold 
stroke  for  happiness?  Must  she  cause  misery  to  him  as 
well  as  herself  from  weakness  at  a  crucial  moment? 

The  latch  of  the  door  moved  and  she  sprang  quickly 
to  her  feet. 

"It  is  safe  for  you  to  go,  Madame,"  said  Count 
Valdmir,  standing  aside  that  she  might  pass  out.  * '  Your 
father  will  not  cause  you  further  trouble;  it  will  not 
be  necessary  for  you  to  consider  him  at  all." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly,  "  you  are  very  good, 
Count." 

He  stooped  to  recover  her  veil,  which  had  fallen  to  the 


THE    SECRETARY   OF    STATE         171 

floor,  and  held  the  hand  extended  to  receive  it  somewhat 
longer  than  necessary. 

"  It  is  your  happiness  I  have  at  heart,"  he  whispered 
softly,  "  your  happiness  and  mine,  Estelle. 

"  Were  you  afraid,"  he  continued  breathlessly, 
"  afraid,  shut  in  that  empty  room  alone?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  slowly  withdrew  her  hand. 

' '  I  was  not  afraid, ' '  she  said  with  a  sudden  lowering 
of  her  black  lashes,  "  because — I  knew  you  would  not 
forget  me." 

She  moved  towards  the  door,  but  paused  on  the 
threshold  and  looked  back. 

"  This  house  is  strangely  lonely,"  she  remarked  with 
a  shiver,  "  will  you  not  see  me  safely  to  the  street, 
Count  Valdmir?" 


172  THE    WIFE    OF 


XVII 


"  HAVE  you  noticed,"  inquired  Mrs.  Colson  genially, 
addressing  her  household  assembled  at  the  evening  re- 
past, the  day  after  Christmas,  "  how  changed  Mr. 
Leigh  is?  Scarcely  a  word  to  say  for  himself  and  out 
till  all  hours  of  the  night — or  morning,  rather.  No 
wonder  he  looks  thin  and  worn.  I  think  you'll  find 
that  currant  jelly  good,  Miss  Jackson,  I  put  it  up 
myself. ' ' 

' '  You  know  I  prefer  mint  sauce  with  roast  lamb,  Mrs. 
Colson,"  returned  Miss  Jackson,  mildly  reproachful, 
repudiating  the  jelly;  "  as  to  Mr.  Leigh,  well,  since  you 
mention  it,  I  will  admit  that  he  is  changed,  and  not  for 
the  better." 

"  Late  hours,"  suggested  an  old  gentleman  with  a 
fierce  gray  mustache,  "  late  hours  and  hard  work  per- 
haps. Burning  the  candle  at  both  ends,  like  all  young 
fellows." 

"  Young  men  will  be  young  men,  General,"  returned 
the  "White  House  Baby  with  a  wan  smile.  ' '  Would  you 
kindly  pass  the  Chili  sauce  ?  Thank  you  so  much. ' ' 

'  He  used  to  be  so  merry,"  continued  Mrs.  Colson, 
shaking  her  head  regretfully;  "  always  a  cheerful  word 
or  a  joke  even  for  the  servants,  and  I  have  often  heard 
him  whistling  and  singing  in  his  room  while  he  was 
dressing,  and  now ' 

"And   now,"   said   the   White    House   Baby   acidly, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          173 

"  when  he  comes  home  he  walks  to  and  fro  over  my 
head  until  I  get  so  nervous  I  can 't  sleep.  I  really  think, 
Mrs.  Colson,  you  might  speak  to  him  about  it.  I  must 
have  my  rest,  you  know." 

"  It's  love,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  gallantly  filling 
Miss  Jackson's  glass,  "  that  is  what's  the  matter  with 
him.  A  pair  of  bright  eyes,  ladies,  plays  the  devil  with 
a  man,  young  or  old. ' ' 

"  Oh  General!"  exclaimed  the  ladies  in  coquettish 
chorus. 

"  Mr.  Marks  also,"  remarked  Miss  Jackson  thought- 
fully, "  is  not  the  man  he  once  was." 

"  No,"  agreed  Mrs.  Colson  regretfully,  "  that  is  true, 
Miss  Jackson.  He  keeps  very  late  hours  too.  And  he 
used  to  be  so — well,  so  circumspect,  you  know." 

The  old  gentleman  burst  into  a  shout  of  gruff  laughter. 

"  My  dear  Madam,"  he  said,  "  you  have  employed 
the  right  word.  Whatever  that  young  man  may  do,  I'll 
wager  he  does  it  in  a  circumspect  manner." 

"  Oh  General,"  again  chorussed  the  ladies  in  faint 
expostulation. 

"  Do  you  see  Mrs.  Colson 's  new  white  silk  waist?" 
whispered  the  White  House  Baby  to  Miss  Jackson  under 
cover  of  a  sudden  buzz  of  conversation;  "  that  is  the 
second  this  winter.  And  it  is  trimmed  with  Persian 
bands.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  extravagance  ? ' ' 

"  I'll  wager  her  shoes  don't  keep  out  the  wet,"  re- 
turned Miss  Jackson  in  the  same  tone,  adding  aloud, 
' '  we  were  just  admiring  your  bodice,  Mrs.  Colson.  How 
very  becoming  it  is." 

And  meanwhile  up  in  his  room  David  Leigh  sat  before 
his  writing-desk  and  gazed  at  a  miscellaneous  collection 
of  what  appeared  to  be  odds  and  ends  destined  for  the 


174  THE    WIFE    OF 

scrap-basket.  The  fact  that  dinner  was  in  progress 
below  disturbed  his  serenity  not  at  all,  for  he  had  no 
intention  of  presenting  himself  at  the  festive  board. 
There  were  times  when  the  society  of  his  fellow-boarders 
did  not  appeal  to  his  sense  of  duty.  Upon  the  floor 
beside  him  was  a  copy  of  the  evening  paper  open  at  the 
society  column ;  it  had  laid  there  for  the  past  hour  and 
the  page  was  creased  and  wrinkled  as  if  crushed  by  an 
impatient  hand.  Now  and  then  he  lifted  an  article  from 
the  little  heap  before  him  and  held  it  judicially,  as 
though  weighing  its  value. 

"  I  will  keep  one  thing,"  he  said,  aloud,  "  one. 
Which  shall  it  be?" 

He  carefully  put  aside  several  little  scented  notes;  a 
handkerchief  with  its  dainty  embroidered  monogram; 
two  or  three  faded  flowers  and  a  long  white  glove.  It 
was  not  a  very  large  collection,  but  a  choice  seemed 
difficult. 

He  smoothed  out  the  handkerchief  with  a  lingering 
touch,  then  folded  it  carefully,  placed  it  in  the  drawer 
of  the  desk,  and  took  up  the  glove.  There  is  something 
wonderfully  human  about  an  empty  glove  which  has 
shaped  itself  to  a  hand;  it  retains  the  personality  of  its 
owner  in  a  manner  possible  to  few  inanimate  objects; 
it  also  seems  to  appeal  mutely  for  the  absent,  and  to 
continually  beckon  wandering  memory  back  into  the 
sunshine  or  shadow  of  the  past.  David  Leigh  held  the 
white  glove  until  his  fingers  instinctively  closed  over  it, 
as  though  the  soft  suede  covered  a  still  softer  hand  of 
flesh  and  blood. 

"  I  will  keep  this,"  he  said,  rousing  himself  abruptly 
and  gathering  together  the  notes  and  bits  of  brown 
flowers.  There  were  very  few,  to  be  sure,  but  they  made 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          175 

quite  a  little  pile  as  he  laid  them  away  in  a  drawer  of 
the  desk. 

"  David,  my  boy,"  he  continued  meditatively,  "  you 
have  been  a  fool — yes,  a  fool.  Are  you  a  child  that  you 
should  cry  for  the  moon?  Go  to  work;  there's  plenty 
to  do.  Brace  up  now  and  write  your  note;  take  your 
medicine  like  a  little  man." 

The  result  of  this  exhortation  was  the  following 
epistle,  written  with  great  care  upon  his  best  stationery, 
after  many  sheets  had  been  begun  and  flung  impatiently 
aside : 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  BYBD  :  I  have  just  been  reading  the  Star  and 
hasten  to  offer  my  hearty  congratulations  and  very  best  wishes. 
What  a  lucky  man  Mr.  Rivers  is,  to  be  sure!  I  wonder  how 
many  fellows  in  Washington  are  envying  him  to-night.  Shall 
1  see  you  at  Mrs.  Redmond's  dinner  on  Tuesday?  I  want  to 
present  my  congratulations  in  person  and,  incidentally,  to  return 
the  handkerchief  you  lost  at  the  Stones'  cotillion  and  which  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  find. 

"  Wishing  you  every  possible  happiness,  believe  me 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  DAVID  GBAIIAM  LEIGH." 

David  looked  at  his  signature  with  some  admiration 
as  he  laid  aside  the  blotter.  It  was  only  on  state  occa- 
sions that  he  wrote  it  out  in  full  and  brought  the  end 
of  the  last  letter  around  beneath  the  whole  name  in  an 
imposing  flourish.  He  addressed  an  envelope  and 
stamped  it  with  the  careful  attention  to  detail  which 
had  marked  the  transcribing  of  the  note,  scrupulously 
wiping  his  pen  and  returning  it  to  its  appointed  place. 

"  Here  endeth  the  first  lesson,"  he  remarked  as  he 
took  up  his  overcoat  and  opened  the  door. 

"  There  he  goes,"  remarked  Miss  Jackson  as  the  front 


176  THE    WIFE    OF 

door  slammed.  ' '  Doesn  't  he  even  tell  you  when  he  dines 
out,  Mrs.  Colson?" 

Mrs.  Colson  smiled  a  patient  and  a  long-suffering 
smile. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Jackson,"  she  returned  with  the  air 
of  a  martyr,  "I'm  accustomed  to  being  slighted  and 
neglected.  What  does  a  little  more  or  less  matter  ? ' ' 

"  But  a  certain  amount  of  courtesy  is  due  every  lady 
from  a  man,"  remarked  the  White  House  Baby,  with 
the  manner  of  including  even  an  inferior  in  her  large- 
mindedness  on  such  subjects. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Bowen,"  replied  Mrs.  Colson,  deli- 
cately crooking  her  little  finger  as  she  helped  herself  to 
potatoes,  "  I  have  long  been  a  stranger  to  the  preroga- 
tives of  a  lady;  and  yet  I  remember  the  time  when  I 
scarcely  knew  how  to  sew  on  a  button  or  tie  my  own 
shoe." 

David,  meanwhile,  unconscious  of  his  deterioration, 
posted  his  letter  and  walked  on,  ignoring  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  dined  and  had  lunched  very  lightly.  When 
a  man  is  oblivious  to  the  claims  of  the  central  portion 
of  his  anatomy  it  is  a  tolerably  sure  sign  he  has  received 
a  hard  hit  from  some  source,  and  is  as  yet  stunned  from 
the  blow. 

And,  in  fact,  when  David,  in  looking  over  the  evening 
paper,  had  glanced  casually  at  the  social  news,  and  read 
the  bald  fact  that  Senator  Byrd  announced  the  engage- 
ment of  his  daughter  Isabel  to  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers, 
Member  of  Congress  from  Virginia,  he  felt  very  much 
as  he  had  done  as  a  boy  when  the  ball  he  expected  to 
catch  hit  him  on  the  nose. 

He  had  quite  lately  begun  to  analyze  his  sentiments 
towards  that  young  lady  and  had  come  to  a  very  definite 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          177 

conclusion  regarding  her.  There  had  been  unexpected 
meetings  with  strictly  informal  chats,  jolly  little  suppers 
at  Senator  Byrd's  after  the  theatre,  an  occasional  walk 
and  talk  in  the  winter's  twilight;  and  also  there  was 
something  else:  a  rainy  Sunday  afternoon  when  there 
were  no  other  callers,  a  chance  word,  a  quick  flush  over- 
spreading a  flower-like  face,  a  sudden  lowering  of  dark 
lashes,  then  the  inevitable  interruption,  and  he  had 
taken  his  leave  with  throbbing  pulses  and  buoyant  step, 
for  he  thought  she  understood.  And  now  the  paragraph 
in  the  Evening  Star.  He  repeated  it  to  himself,  word 
for  word,  as  he  turned  into  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  with 
its  glare  of  light  and  noise  of  passing  cars,  whose  wheels 
took  up  and  repeated  the  refrain,  "  the  engagement  of 
his  daughter  Isabel — his  daughter  Isabel — his  daugh- 
ter— 

Our  first  castles  in  the  air  are  very  lofty  and  imposing 
structures;  they  spring  up  suddenly,  complete  and 
beautiful,  with  no  faulty  architecture  nor  blemishes  in 
material  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  their  contemplation; 
they  also  seem  easy  of  access  and  entirely  possible  of 
achievement.  As  a  rule,  they  fade  slowly,  being  in  time 
replaced  by  smaller  but  more  substantial  edifices;  they 
disappear  quietly,  growing  daily  less  distinct,  even  as 
the  towering  roofs  and  steeples  of  a  large  city  are  finally 
merged  into  the  horizon  when  viewed  from  an  outgoing 
steamer;  and  this  effacement  is  so  gradual  we  scarcely 
realize  they  have  vanished  forever. 

Sometimes,  however,  these  castles  are  incontinently 
demolished  while  yet  newly  built  and  fondly  cherished; 
they  fall  about  our  heads  with  a  crashing  of  walls  and 
rattling  of  stones  deafening  and  benumbing  in  effect; 
and  they  leave  no  foundations  on  which  they  may  be  re- 

12 


178  THE    WIFE    OF 

constructed.  Generally  when  this  happens  we  are  at 
first  stunned  and  inclined  to  believe  ourselves  crushed 
and  hopelessly  crippled  by  the  fall.  After  awhile,  how- 
ever, we  push  aside  the  debris  and  look  about;  we  find, 
to  our  surprise,  that  the  sun  still  shines  and  the  earth 
revolves  as  usual;  and  then,  all  at  once,  we  realize  we 
must  be  up  and  doing  again,  for  we  must  work  if  we 
would  live,  and  there  are  still  things  in  life  to  interest 
us  after  all. 

David,  as  he  walked  briskly  down  the  street,  was  con- 
scious of  a  decided  sensation  of  resentment  and  a  desire 
to  be  alone.  He  felt  at  odds  with  the  world  generally, 
and  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Mr.  Rivers  rolling  rapidly 
along  in  a  hansom,  snug  and  comfortable,  was  scarcely 
soothing  under  the  circumstances.  He  had  intended 
dropping  in  at  one  of  the  theatres  and  afterwards  join- 
ing a  party  of  young  men  at  the  Alibi  Club,  but  he 
decided  to  go  instead  to  the  Department  and  work  off 
some  arrears  of  correspondence.  It  is  odd  how  para- 
mount duty  can  become  when  one  is  disinclined  for 
pleasure. 

"  Working  overtime?"  inquired  the  watchman  with 
a  nod  of  recognition  as  David  paused  to  get  the  key  of 
his  office. 

"  You'll  have  to  walk  up,"  he  continued  garrulously, 
selecting  the  key  from  the  rack  beside  him,  "  the  ele- 
vators don't  run  at  night." 

The  great  building,  which  during  the  day  was  a  veri- 
table hive  of  industry,  teeming  with  humanity  and 
humming  with  many  voices,  mingled  with  the  ceaseless 
click  of  the  typewriter,  was  quiet  and  deserted  enough 
at  night.  The  long  corridors,  dimly  illuminated  by  an 
occasional  electric  light  at  regular  intervals,  looked 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          179 

ghostly  and  unreal  as  they  stretched  away  into  space, 
and  his  footsteps  upon  the  marble  floor  reverberated 
with  a  hollow,  metallic  ring  he  had  not  noticed  during 
the  day. 

David  unlocked  the  door  of  the  Secretary's  office  and 
passed  through  it  into  the  little  room  adjoining,  where 
his  own  desk  was  situated.  The  pile  of  unanswered 
letters  he  had  left  a  few  hours  previously  confronted 
him  as  he  turned  on  the  electric  light.  He  looked  them 
over  reflectively,  and,  seizing  a  pad  and  pencil,  scrawled 
answers  to  three  or  four,  and  pushed  them  aside  to  be 
copied  in  the  morning.  Then  he  paused  deliberately 
and  glanced  into  the  next  room  with  its  deserted  desk 
and  vacant  chairs. 

The  personality  of  the  Secretary  clung  to  this  room, 
even  during  his  absence.  The  neat  rows  of  papers  wait- 
ing decision,  carefully  placed  in  their  proper  order  of 
importance,  seemed  to  lie  in  more  decorous  piles  than 
most  correspondence,  as  though  in  deference  to  the  hand 
which  laid  them  there,  and  the  swivel-chair  with  its  cov- 
ering of  brown  leather  had  a  quiet  dignity  of  its  own, 
acquired  perhaps  from  daily  contact  with  its  occupant. 
David  stood  on  the  threshold  and  looked  at  the  bookcase, 
with  its  simply  bound  volumes  of  laws  and  regulations ; 
at  the  map  of  the  world  on  the  wall  beside  it,  with  the 
different  countries  defined  by  irregular  lines  of  various 
colors;  and  at  the  desk  in  the  centre,  with  its  vacant 
chair  and  closed  drawers.  He  had  drawn  a  bunch  of 
keys  from  his  pocket  and  fingered  them  doubtfully, 
absently  selecting  one  and  holding  it  uncertainly  in  his 
hand.  He  stood  thus  for  some  minutes,  then  moved 
impatiently. 

"  Why  not  now  as  well  as  any  time?"  he  said  aloud, 


180  THE    WIFE    OF 

and,  extinguishing  his  light,  passed  into  the  Secretary's 
private  office  and  shut  the  door. 

Outside  the  door  the  clock  ticked  steadily,  its  black 
hands  travelling  slowly  around  its  white  face  and  its 
pendulum  moving  monotonously  back  and  forth  with 
the  dignified  and  precise  regularity  becoming  a  time- 
piece in  the  Department  of  State. 

And  after  the  larger  hand  had  several  times  per- 
formed its  circuit  the  door  opened  and  the  private  secre- 
tary stepped  out.  He  walked  down  the  corridor  with 
lagging  step  and  drooping  figure,  as  though  exhausted 
mentally  and  physically,  and  in  his  hand  he  carried  a 
long,  sealed  envelope. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          181 


XVIII 


A  NOTICEABLE  languor  pervaded  the  Department  of 
State.  Visitors  were  few  and  unimportant;  clerks 
yawned  and  leisurely  dispatched  the  routine  work; 
messengers  nodded  in  their  chairs  with  even  more  than 
their  usual  abandon ;  and,  indeed,  over  the  entire  south 
wing  of  the  great  stone  building  hovered  a  mantle  of 
inertia. 

The  Secretary  was  at  Cabinet  meeting.  A  telephone 
message  had  come  from  the  White  House  that  he  wished 
to  speak  with  his  private  secretary,  and  the  Chief  Clerk 
had  replied  that  Mr.  Leigh  had  not  reached  the  De- 
partment. 

The  winter  sun  shone  brightly  into  the  Secretary's 
office  and  into  the  little  room  adjoining,  with  the  swivel- 
chair  pushed  back  as  though  hastily  vacated  and  a 
pencil  lying  upon  the  blotter  as  if  idle  for  a  moment, 
to  be  sure,  but  ready  to  be  up  and  doing  at  any  instant. 

Again  the  telephone  rang  and  again  the  Chief  Clerk 
repeated  his  statement  that  Mr.  Leigh  had  not  yet 
arrived. 

So  the  morning  dragged  slowly  on  until  the  return 
of  the  Secretary  created  some  little  diversion,  for  the 
messengers  rose  as  he  passed  and  in  so  doing  almost 
awoke. 

Mr.  Redmond  was  accompanied  by  Senator  Byrd  and 
Mr.  Rivers.  They  went  at  once  to  his  private  office,  and 


182  THE    WIFE    OF 

almost  immediately  the  imperative  sound  of  a  bell  dis- 
turbed the  serenity  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere. 

"Go  at  once,"  said  the  Secretary  to  the  messenger 
who  responded,  "  to  Mr.  Leigh's  rooms.  Say  that  I 
wish  to  see  him  on  important  business.  If  he  is  indis- 
posed, I  will  not  detain  him  long,  but  the  matter  is 
urgent.  Make  haste!" 

The  man  withdrew,  and  Mr.  Redmond  turned  to  his 
companions.  He  stood  before  his  desk ;  the  upper  right- 
hand  drawer  was  open  and  its  contents  spread  upon  the 
blotter. 

1 '  It  is  gone, ' '  he  said  blankly,  ' '  gone. ' ' 

The  little  key  in  the  open  drawer  twinkled  and  glit- 
tered in  the  sunlight  as  brightly  as  it  had  glistened  once 
before  when  the  drawer  was  shut  and  locked. 

"Ask  me,"  it  said,  "  ask  me." 

But  nobody  noticed  it  at  all,  and  after  a  while  even 
the  sun  went  under  a  cloud  and  forgot  all  about  it. 

"  I  put  it  in  here,"  said  Mr.  Redmond  slowly,  "  with 
my  own  hands.  You  saw  me,  Byrd. " 

Senator  Byrd  nodded. 

"  I  don't  think  I  entirely  understand,"  remarked  Mr. 
Rivers,  who  had  met  the  other  two  at  the  entrance  to 
the  elevator.  ' '  What  is  lost  ? ' ' 

"  The  President,"  said  the  Secretary  quietly,  "  gave 
me  a  synopsis  of  his  policy  in  regard  to  the  Roostchook 
trouble  just  before  he  went  South.  I  did  not  agree 
with  him  and  delayed  action  until  he  returned.  Mean- 
while, I  temporized,  hoping  the  lost  papers  might  be 
found. 

"  I  brought  the  paper  the  President  gave  me  over 
here,"  he  resumed  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  and 
talked  the  matter  over  with  Senator  Byrd.  No  one  else 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          183 

knew  of  the  existence  of  such  a  document  and  I  wished 
to  keep  it  secret. 

"  To-day  I  again  discussed  the  question  with  the 
President  and  he  agreed  reluctantly  to  modify  his  policy 
in  some  essential  features.  He  wishes  the  paper  re- 
turned to  him  for  revision.  It  is  not  here." 

Mr.  Rivers  and  Senator  Byrd  exchanged  a  quick 
glance,  and  the  latter  approached  the  Secretary  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  remarking  quietly  that  doubt- 
less it  was  only  mislaid  and  would  in  time  appear. 

Mr.  Redmond  turned  suddenly  and  faced  his  com- 
panions. He  was  evidently  deeply  excited  and  breathed 
heavily  as  he  shook  off  the  consoling  hand  impatiently. 

' '  My  God,  man, ' '  he  said  almost  angrily,  ' '  don 't  you 
understand  that  there  is  a  spy  in  the  Department  ? ' ' 

Mr.  Rivers  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked 
to  the  window  looking  out  over  the  Potomac  with 
thoughtful  eyes  and  lips  puckered  slightly,  as  though 
about  to  whistle.  The  Member  of  Congress  was 
thinking. 

Senator  Byrd  absently  collected  the  scattered  papers 
and  replaced  them  in  the  drawer.  His  face  was  very 
grave,  and  he  glanced  from  time  to  time  at  the  little 
inner  room  with  apparent  anxiety.  Mr.  Rivers,  turning 
slightly,  followed  the  direction  of  his  glance  and  walked 
at  once  to  the  door. 

'  Who  occupies  this  room  ? "  he  inquired  suddenly. 

"  My  private  secretary,  Mr.  Leigh,"  replied  Mr.  Red- 
mond mechanically. 

Again  the  Senator  and  Member  of  Congress  exchanged 
a  glance  as  the  Secretary  sank  into  his  chair  and  uncon- 
sciously tapped  the  arm  with  his  fingers. 

"  Byrd,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  I  wonder " 


184  THE    WIFE    OF 

He  checked  himself  abruptly  and  touched  his  bell. 

' '  I  wish  to  see  Harris, ' '  he  said  when  it  was  answered. 

And  the  man  replied  that  Harris  had  been  sent  for 
Mr.  Leigh  and  had  not  yet  returned. 

"  I  have  every  confidence  in  Mr.  Leigh,"  said  the 
Secretary,  addressing  Mr.  Rivers  almost  belligerently. 
"  every  confidence." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Member  of  Congress  smoothly, 
"  of  course." 

He  returned  to  the  window  and  resumed  his  contem- 
plation of  the  landscape,  while  his  companions  watched 
the  door  with  no  effort  to  conceal  their  impatience,  and 
the  silence  remained  unbroken  save  for  the  voices  and 
footsteps  of  visitors  passing  through  the  corridor 
without. 

Upon  the  wall  hung  the  likeness  of  a  former  Secre- 
tary, now  no  longer  burdened  by  affairs  of  state.  He 
looked  serenely  down  upon  his  successor  and  almost 
seemed  to  shrug  his  shoulders  disdainfully,  as  though 
repudiating  any  connection  with  Departmental  respon- 
sibilities. 

There  was  a  slight  stir  in  the  corridor  and  Harris  re- 
turned, breathless  from  rapid  walking. 

"  Well?"  said  the  Secretary  sharply,  "  well?" 

' '  Mr.  Leigh  was  not  at  home,  sir, ' '  replied  the  man. 

"  Not  at  home?" 

"  No,  sir.  He  went  out  at  dinner-time  last  night  and 
did  not  return.  They  do  not  know  where  he  is." 

Harris  waited  uncertainly,  hat  in  hand. 

"  Is  there  anything  more,  sir?"  he  inquired  defer- 
entially. 

"  Nothing  more,  Harris.     You  can  go." 

The  Secretary's  face  had  grown  old  and  gray  and 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         185 

the  hand  which  turned  the  shining  key  in  the  desk 
drawer  shook  slightly. 

"  I  lock  the  stable  door,  you  see,"  he  said  grimly  as 
the  other  men  approached  him,  "  after  the  horse  is 
stolen." 

Mr.  Rivers  looked  significantly  at  the  little  inner  room 
with  its  unmistakable  traces  of  recent  occupancy. 

' '  The  inference, ' '  he  said,  ' '  is  obvious. ' ' 

"  I  have  every  confidence  in  Mr.  Leigh,"  said  the 
Secretary,  turning  involuntarily  to  Senator  Byrd. 

But  the  Senator  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  your  confi- 
dence was  misplaced.  Mr.  Leigh  knew  of  the  existence 
of  that  paper;  he  also  knew  where  it  was.  When  we 
discussed  the  matter  he  was  in  that  little  room.  You 
remember  he  came  through  the  door  and  reminded  you 
of  its  being  Diplomatic  Day,  don't  you?" 

'  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Redmond  unwillingly,  "  yes,  I 
remember. ' ' 

'  In  short,"  remarked  Mr.  Rivers  briskly,  "  the  paper 
is  gone  and  Leigh  is  missing.  It  only  goes  to  prove  the 
theory  I  have  had  all  along." 

'  You  are  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Redmond  emphatically, 
"  wrong.  No  man—  What  is  it,  Harris?  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  disturbed. ' ' 

'  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  but  the  private  sec- 
retary of  the  President  is  waiting  and  says  his  business 
is  important." 

' '  Very  well,  I  will  see  him. ' ' 

Senator  Byrd  and  Mr.  Rivers  started  to  retire,  but 
the  Secretary  detained  them  with  an  imperative  motion 
of  his  hand. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Lane,"  he  said,  turning  with  his  cus- 


186  THE    WIFE    OF 

ternary  quiet  self-possession  to  greet  the  young  man  who 
now  entered,  ' '  what  can  I  do  for  you  ? ' ' 

"  The  President  wishes  his  synopsis  on  the  Roost- 
chook  matter,  Mr.  Secretary,"  replied  Mr.  Lane,  de- 
clining the  proffered  chair,  "  he  intends  to  take  the 
subject  up  at  once." 

Mr.  Redmond  touched  his  bell. 

"  My  coat  and  hat,  Harris,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  will 
return  with  you  to  the  White  House,  Mr.  Lane.  I  wish 
to  see  the  President." 

Senator  Byrd  accepted  a  cigar  tendered  him  by  the 
Member  of  Congress  as  the  door  closed  on  the  Secretary 
and  the  smaller,  more  erect  figure  of  the  younger  man. 

"  It  is  a  bad  business,"  he  remarked  as  he  struck  a 
match. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  companion  indifferently,  "  it 
looks  as  though  there  might  be  the  devil  to  pay  before 
we  get  through  with  it." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  Senator,  pausing  at  the  door  of 
the  little  room,  "  I  wonder  where  he  is?" 

"And  I,"  returned  the  Member  of  Congress, 
"  wonder  who  bought  him." 

The  swivel -chair  looked  as  if  it  knew  all  about  it  but 
wouldn't  tell  for  the  world,  and  the  pencil  lay  upon  the 
blotter  innocent  enough  to  all  appearance,  yet  the  lead 
was  worn  blunt  and  had  a  weary  air,  as  though  it  could 
a  tale  impart  if  it  chose  to  do  so.  The  Senator  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"  Past  lunch  time,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and  I  promised 
to  be  at  home  to-day.  Come  with  me,  Rivers,  and  help 
me  make  my  peace  with  Isabel." 

But  the  Member  of  Congress  had  another  engagement, 
so  the  two  men  separated,  while  the  sun  again  looked  in 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          187 

on  the  empty  office  where  the  picture  of  the  bygone  and 
forgotten  Secretary  gazed  loftily  at  the  brown  leather 
chair  of  his  successor  from  his  vantage  ground  of  safety 
within  the  gilt  frame.  It  almost  seemed  as  though  his 
lips  moved  and  he  whispered: 

"  I  had  my  troubles  too,  but  they  are  not  now  impor- 
tant, even  as  I,  myself,  am  no  longer  of  any  consequence. 
Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes — be  they  papers  or  flesh  and 
blood,  they  crumble  equally  well." 


In  the  War  Department,  at  the  other  end  of  the  long 
corridor,  Christine  Gray  adjusted  her  veil  and  asked  for 
half  a  day's  leave  of  absence.  She  ran  down  the  large 
stone  steps  at  the  front  of  the  building  rather  hurriedly, 
for  she  had  a  luncheon  engagement  and  was  already  a 
little  late. 

Christine  pursued  her  way  down  F  Street,  her  color 
a  little  higher  than  usual  and  her  eyes  shining  with 
excitement. 

At  the  door  of  the  Losekam  she  paused,  and,  after 
hesitating  a  minute  or  two,  ran  lightly  up  the  stairs.  A 
round  table  laid  for  two  was  waiting  by  the  window  and 
a  man  rose  with  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  and 
advanced  to  meet  her. 

"  You  said  two  o'clock,"  she  remarked  as  she  seated 
herself  and  removed  her  gloves,  "  but  I  fear  I'm  a  little 
late.  I  hope  I  have  not  kept  you  waiting,  Mr.  Rivers." 


188  THE    WIFE    OF 


XIX 


MR.  RIVERS  was  just  now  a  very  busy  man.  He  was 
not  only  Representative  from  the  Fourteenth  District 
of  Virginia,  he  was  also  Miss  Isabel  Byrd's  fiance,  and 
the  combination  of  two  such  functions  was  quite  enough 
to  occupy  the  days  of  the  average  man  very  comfortably. 

In  addition,  however,  Mr.  Rivers  had  various  little 
matters  of  a  private  character  which  must  receive  his 
personal  attention,  and  which  he  was  very  conscientious 
about  not  neglecting.  Therefore  he  was  obliged  to 
arrange  his  engagements  carefully  in  order  that  they 
might  not  conflict,  and  dovetail  them  into  one  another 
with  neatness  and  dispatch. 

It  was  customary  for  him  to  drop  in  at  a  florist's  en 
route  to  the  Capitol  each  morning  to  procure  flowers 
for  his  betrothed.  He  liked  to  select  them  himself,  and 
therefore  did  not  adopt  the  simpler  plan  of  leaving  a 
standing  order. 

Isabel  provided  with  roses  or  orchids,  and  a  fresh 
white  carnation  selected  for  his  own  buttonhole,  it  was 
not  unusual  for  Mr.  Rivers  to  leave  a  second  order  and 
to  write  a  few  words  on  the  card  which  accompanied  it 
in  his  neat,  ornamental  backhand.  Sometimes  it  was  a 
quotation ;  at  others  an  original  sentiment  quite  worthy 
the  distinction  of  being  quoted  in  its  turn  had  the  world 
but  known  of  its  existence. 

As  he  sat  at  the  little  round  table  in  the  Losekam, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          189 

handsome,  well  groomed,  and  debonair,  wearing  to  per- 
fection that  air  of  deferential  attention  so  gratifying  to 
the  genus  femininum,  the  Member  from  Virginia  was 
very  pleasant  to  look  upon.  It  was  small  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  the  girl  opposite  paid  more  attention  to  her 
companion  than  her  lunch,  and  breathed  a  little  sigh  of 
regret  when  the  waiter  brought  coffee  with  its  accom- 
panying air  of  finality. 

"And  now,"  he  remarked  genially,  "  I  have  still  a 
spare  hour  or  so.  What  shall  we  do  with  it?" 

Christine  stirred  her  coffee  reflectively.  She  had  a 
question  to  ask  which  she  had  heretofore  resolutely  kept 
in  the  background  lest  its  answer  should  cast  a  shadow 
upon  her  holiday.  She  looked  thoughtfully  into  the 
depths  of  her  cup  before  speaking,  while  he  noted  the 
length  of  the  dark,  curled  lashes  fringing  her  white 
eyelids  and  the  little  frown  which  wrinkled  her  smooth 
brow.  Resting  his  arms  on  the  table,  he  leaned  forward 
slightly. 

"  What  is  it?"  he  said  gently,  "  what  troubles  you?" 

"I'm  not  troubled,"  she  returned,  "I'm  only 
curious. ' ' 

"  Well?" 

Christine  was  laying  the  table-cloth  in  little  folds  and 
devoting  her  whole  attention  to  the  operation. 

"  I  read  in  the  paper  last  night,"  she  continued 
slowly,  "  that  your  engagement  was  announced  to  Miss 
Byrd,  and  I  wondered  if  it  could  be  true." 

It  was  delightful  to  hear  the  frank,  hearty  laugh 
with  which  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  greeted  this  remark, 
thus  repudiating  the  allegation  quite  as  convincingly 
as  a  flat  denial,  with  perhaps  a  slighter  sense  of  perjury. 

* '  How  perfectly  absurd ! "  he  said. 


190  THE    WIFE    OF 

Two  little  spirits  leaped  into  the  girl's  brown  eyes  and 
lighted  flaming  torches  there. 

"  Then  it  isn't  true?"  she  questioned  persistently. 

Again  the  Member  from  Virginia  laughed  cheerfully. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  indulgently,  "  you  don't 
understand  newspapers.  If  I  had  been  married  as  many 
times  as  I've  been  reported  engaged,  I'd  be  a  Mormon 
indeed.  The  papers  must  have  something  to  write  about 
and  we  public  men  are  the  victims. ' ' 

"  I  only  asked,"  she  said  a  little  breathlessly, 
"  because  I  was  interested.  You  know  I'm  engaged 
myself. ' ' 

Mr.  Rivers  knew  this  fact  very  well;  he  had  learned 
it  in  the  early  stages  of  their  acquaintance,  and,  indeed, 
had  pulled  a  few  underground  wires  at  the  War  Depart- 
ment which  had  finally  landed  a  certain  young  second 
lieutenant  safely  in  Alaska,  where  he  would  be  unable 
to  resist  any  poaching  upon  his  preserves.  He  felt, 
however,  that  it  was  time  to  change  the  subject  and 
therefore  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Come,"  he  remarked  cheerfully,  "  time  is  passing. 
What  shall  we  do?" 

"  Well,"  returned  Christine  meditatively,  putting  on 
her  gloves,  "I'd  like  awfully  to  go  through  the  Octagon 
House.  You  don't  mind,  do  you?" 

He  did  not  mind  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  the  Octagon 
House  appeared  to  him  as  a  very  satisfactory  place  in 
which  to  linger  for  a  while  longer  with  his  present  com- 
panion. Its  location,  with  the  probable  accompanying 
freedom  from  interruption,  appealed  more  strongly  to 
his  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  than  a  walk  through 
the  more  exclusive  residence  section  or  crowded  shopping 
district. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE  191 

So  they  went  out  into  the  winter  sunshine,  the  girl 
chatting  brightly,  and  the  man  responding  to  her  mood 
in  a  manner  subtly  flattering  by  his  evident  pleasure 
in  her  society  and  genuine  interest  in  her  most  casual 
remarks. 

"  Let's  go  around  back  of  the  State  Department," 
she  suggested,  and  they  walked  slowly  about  the  half 
circle  south  of  the  great  white  building,  passing  beneath 
the  window  from  which  Mr.  Rivers  had  gazed  a  few 
hours  previous  while  gravely  discussing  affairs  of  the 
nation.  He  looked  up  at  it  curiously,  and  Christine 
followed  his  glance  with  interest. 

"  It's  just  a  big,  white  prison,"  she  said,  "  with  peo- 
ple chained  to  desks,  grinding  their  lives  out." 

'  They  are  paid,  you  know,"  remarked  the  member 
of  the  Finance  Committee  suggestively. 

"  There  isn't  enough  money  in  the  Treasury,"  she 
retorted  quickly,  "  to  pay  a  human  being  for  degen- 
erating into  a  machine,  and  I've  noticed  that  it  always 
happens  to  those  who  stay  there  long  enough." 

'  I  said  you  wouldn't  like  it,  you  know,"  remarked 
Mr.  Rivers  as  she  paused  abruptly. 

"  Well,  you  were  right — I  hate  it.  All  the  same," 
she  added  with  a  quick  display  of  dimples,  "I'm 
awfully  grateful  to  you  for  putting  me  there." 

The  Member  of  Congress  laughed  as  he  ran  lightly 
up  the  steps  of  the  Octagon  House  and  pushed  open  the 
door. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  gayly,  "  I  want  to  do  the 
honors. ' ' 

"It's  cold,"  said  Christine,  "  awfully  cold.  I  don't 
think  I  want  to  see  the  house,  after  all." 

She  followed  her  companion,  nevertheless,  as  he  passed 


192  THE    WIFE    OF 

from  room  to  room,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  stopped 
suddenly. 

"  Look,"  she  exclaimed,  "  isn't  this  funny?" 

Mr.  Rivers  paused  in  the  midst  of  his  remarks  upon 
the  symmetry  of  the  stairway  and  turned  towards  his 
companion.  Christine  held  in  her  hand  two  bits  of 
paper  tied  together  by  a  twisted  cord  of  red,  white,  and 
blue  thread;  one  piece  was  blank,  on  the  other  a  few 
words  were  distinctly  legible. 

"  The  policy  of  this  Government  in  regard  to  the 
Roostchook,"  she  read  aloud  as  Mr.  Rivers  held  out  his 
hand  for  the  paper. 

The  Member  of  Congress  scrutinized  each  word  care- 
fully and  finally  turned  the  paper  around  and  examined 
a  minute  hieroglyphic  in  the  corner. 

' '  What  letters  are  these  ?  "  he  inquired  quickly,  taking 
the  paper  nearer  the  light. 

Christine  followed  curiously.  She  saw  no  reason  that 
a  scrap  of  State  Department  stationery  should  arouse 
an  excitement  tending  to  relegate  her  small  self  to  the 
background,  and  therefore  again  took  possession  of  her 
discovery  with  an  injured  air. 

"  Well,"  she  said  indifferently,  "  the  writing  is  very 
scratchy  but  the  letters  are  plain  enough — D.  L. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  continued  reflectively,  "  where  I 
can  have  seen  that  long  word — Roostchook;  it  looks 
awfully  familiar." 

The  Member  of  Congress  held  out  his  hand  for  the 
paper,  which  he  folded  carefully  and  put  in  his  card- 
case. 

"  Let  us  go  upstairs,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  have  a 
fancy  to  explore  the  old  house  thoroughly." 

The  Octagon   House  was  empty  indeed   to-day,   for 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          193 

Colonel  St.  John  was  on  duty  at  the  Department  as 
watchman,  and  therefore  unable  to  render  any  assist- 
ance as  janitor  or  guide,  and  apparently  no  other 
visitors  wished  to  go  sightseeing  that  afternoon.  Mr. 
Rivers  was  very  thorough  in  his  explorations.  He 
went  through  the  dusty  old  rooms  slowly,  opening 
closet  doors  and  tapping  the  walls  inquiringly,  almost  as 
though  expecting  a  response.  On  the  landing  of  the 
third  floor  he  paused  before  a  door  upon  which  was 
fastened  a  neat  white  card  bearing  the  inscription, 
"Janitor's  Room.  Not  on  Exhibition."  A  second 
card  bore  the  brief  but  definite  statement,  "  Out." 

Mr.  Rivers  perused  the  bits  of  pasteboard  with  inter- 
est, and  even  went  so  far  as  to  unobtrusively  turn  the 
handle  of  the  door,  which  very  properly  resisted  such 
unwarranted  intrusion.  The  janitor  had  that  morning 
provided  his  apartment. with  a  new  lock,  which  proved 
itself  satisfactory  on  trial. 

The  Member  of  Congress  stroked  his  mustache  re- 
flectively. 

' '  I  think, ' '  he  remarked  after  a  long  silence,  ' '  I  will 
go  up  into  the  attic.  Will  you  come?" 

Christine  shook  her  head  and  seated  herself  on  an 
unsteady  old  chair  outside  the  janitor's  door. 

"I'm  tired,"  she  replied  quietly,  "  and  I  don't  think 
I  like  this  house  after  all.  I'll  wait  here,  if  you  really 
want  to  go." 

"  I  won't  be  long,"  he  returned,  his  hand  on  the 
door  leading  into  the  attic,  and  with  a  nod  and  smile 
he  disappeared. 

Christine  shivered  as  she  leaned  against  the  wall 
beside  her.  The  exhilaration  of  the  early  afternoon  had 
passed,  leaving  in  its  stead  an  odd  sensation  of  oppres- 

13 


194  THE    WIFE    OF 

sion.  She  felt  aggrieved  that  a  dusty  attic  should  offer 
attractions  superior  to  those  she  had  been  led  to  believe 
she  possessed  in  no  limited  degree,  and  much  regretted 
the  suggestion  of  a  visit  to  the  old  house,  whose  sense 
of  emptiness  had  impressed  her  most  unpleasantly.  On 
the  whole,  the  afternoon  since  lunch  had  been  disap- 
pointing. 

The  short  winter's  day  was  waning  and  the  hall  beside 
her  had  become  dusky  and  forbidding.  She  suddenly 
remembered  strange  stories  she  had  heard  of  the  Octa- 
gon House  after  nightfall  and  glanced  apprehensively 
about.  What  could  keep  Mr.  Kivers  in  the  attic?  Her 
head  ached  and  she  felt  languid  and  miserable. 

Quite  unconscious  that  she  was  merely  feeling  the 
effects  of  a  natural  reaction  from  the  afternoon's  pleas- 
ure, Christine  pressed  her  forehead  against  the  cold 
wall  beside  her  and  sighed  impatiently. 

In  a  moment  she  had  sprung,  terrified,  to  her  feet,  for 
from  the  blank  wall  at  her  side  came  an  echoing  sigh, 
distinct  and  unmistakable,  hopeless  in  its  import,  and 
giving  the  impression  of  bodily  as  well  as  mental  suffer- 
ing. As  Christine  stood  petrified  upon  the  landing  she 
was  conscious  of  a  low  muttering,  slowly  dying  away, 
only  to  commence  again  with  increased  vigor.  And 
again  the  sigh — melancholy,  appealing,  unendurable. 

With  a  shriek  of  terror  the  girl  turned  and  fled,  her 
hands  clasped  over  her  ears  and  her  trembling  limbs 
almost  refusing  to  support  her.  Upon  reaching  the 
street  she  did  not  wait  for  her  escort.  Leaving  him  to 
meet  unprotected  whatever  fate  might  await  him,  she 
sought  the  shelter  of  her  boarding-house  as  speedily  as 
possible.  As  she  reached  the  front  steps  she  paused 
suddenly. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          195 

"  There,"  she  remarked  aloud,  "  I  forgot  all  about 
Mr.  Rivers." 

That  gentleman,  absorbed  in  picking  his  way  care- 
fully among  the  empty  tin  cans,  piles  of  rags,  and  other 
debris  of  the  attic,  was  much  alarmed  by  the  girl's 
scream  of  fright  and  the  sound  of  her  retreating  foot- 
steps. 

He  started  at  once  in  anxious  pursuit  and  listened 
to  her  story,  which,  told  in  the  stiff  boarding-house 
parlor,  lost  much  of  its  reality,  even  to  Christine  herself. 

But  late  that  evening  the  Member  of  Congress  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  apartments  carefully  recalled  each 
word  of  her  narrative,  and  finally  took  from  his  card- 
case  the  two  bits  of  paper  and  gave  them  his  close 
attention. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  remarked,  returning  the  papers  to 
the  seclusion  of  the  card-case,  "  whether  it  was  imagina- 
tion or Anyway,  I  '11  send  roses  to-morrow. ' ' 


196  THE    WIFE    OF 


XX 


WHERE  was  David  Leigh?  This  was  the  question 
which  agitated  Mrs.  Colson  's  boarding-house  from  garret 
to  cellar  and  caused  endless  comment  and  conjecture 
among  the  lesser  lights  of  the  Department  of  State.  The 
higher  officials  said  little  for  publication,  but  frequently 
conferred  among  themselves,  apparently  to  no  purpose. 
The  private  secretary  was  missing;  that  fact  was  self- 
evident,  but  beyond  it  was  a  silence  as  impenetrable  as 
the  silence  of  the  grave  itself. 

11  It's  my  belief,"  remarked  Miss  Jackson  with  the 
air  of  one  who  expects  to  create  a  sensation, — "  it's  my 
belief,  Mrs.  Colson,  that  he  committed  suicide.  He  may 
have  been  crossed  in  love,  you  know." 

This  theory,  having  been  advanced  every  night  at 
dinner  since  Leigh's  disappearance,  failed  to  make  the 
impression  which  might  otherwise  have  been  expected. 

"  Much  more  likely  to  owe  money  and  be  in  hiding 
somewhere, ' '  said  the  old  gentleman  with  the  gray  mus- 
tache gruffly. 

"  Oh  General!"  expostulated  the  ladies  in  staccato 
chorus. 

"  I  feel  for  his  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Colson,  ignoring 
the  fact  that  David  was  well  known  to  have  been  an 
orphan  for  many  years. 

"Ah,  it  is  we  poor  women  who  always  suffer  in  such 
cases,"  murmured  the  White  House  Baby,  helping  her- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          197 

self  liberally  to  mint  sauce,  "  but,  then,  when  do  we 
not  suffer?" 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Jackson  thoughtfully,  "  I  must 
say  I  would  like  to  know  what  has  become  of  him. ' ' 

And  in  quite  another  part  of  the  city  a  girl  repeated 
this  remark  as  she  stood  before  her  mirror  adding  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  evening  toilet. 

Isabel  Byrd  was,  so  her  aunt  affirmed,  as  cross  as  two 
sticks.  Nothing  suited  her.  It  was  stupid  at  home  and 
Washington  was  populated  with  intolerable  bores,  not 
the  least  of  whom  was  her  distinguished  affianced,  who 
was  to  dine  with  them  to-night  en  famille  and  escort 
her  to  Mrs.  Redmond's  box  at  the  theatre. 

Isabel  fastened  her  necklace  with  a  vindictive  snap, 
She  hated  sleek  black  hair  and  silky  mustaches;  she 
hated  immaculate  shirt  fronts  with  little  pearl  studs; 
she  hated  box  parties;  she  hated  everything — and  most 
of  all  she  hated  David  Leigh. 

"A  sneak,"  she  said  hotly  to  her  reflection  in  the 
mirror,  "  a  dishonorable  sneak,  but  I  would  like  to  know 
where  he  is." 

Down  in  the  library  Senator  Byrd  made  substan- 
tially the  same  remark  to  his  prospective  son-in-law  as 
they  waited  for  dinner  to  be  announced,  and  the  Member 
of  Congress  acquiesced  absently. 

"  The  Secret  Service,"  affirmed  the  Senator  con- 
temptuously, ' '  has  made  a  fizzle  of  the  case.  I  tell  you, 
Rivers,  it's  a  flat  impossibility  for  a  man  to  march  off 
the  face  of  the  earth  in  this  day  and  generation.  The 
police  force — 

"  Can  sometimes  be  squared,"  interrupted  Rivers 
quietly. 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 


198  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Merely  that  no  official  organization  is  without  its 
vulnerable  corner.  Perfect-looking  apples  are  some- 
times rotten  at  the  core,  you  know." 

' '  To  what  apple  are  you  alluding  ? ' '  inquired  Senator 
Byrd  dryly. 

The  younger  man  laughed  and  passed  his  hand 
caressingly  over  his  mustache. 

"  Confidentially  speaking,"  he  said  slowly,  "  the 
President " 

Now  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  was  well  known  to  be 
in  close  touch  with  the  head  of  the  nation.  Indeed,  it 
was  rumored  that  in  case  of  a  vacancy  occurring  in  the 
Cabinet  his  appointment  thereto  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion. It  was  also  whispered  that  he  was  far  from 
averse  to  accepting  such  an  honor,  regarding  it  as 
another  step  towards  the  Presidential  chair,  for  Mr. 
Rivers  was  ambitious,  and  in  America  all  things  are 
possible,  provided  the  right  strings  are  pulled  to  bring 
them  about. 

Senator  Byrd  knew  this.    He  also  knew  the  President. 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  he  said  thought- 
fully,— "  at  least  I  think  so,  though  he  has  never  put 
it  into  words  so  far  as  I  am  aware.  I  hope  he  never 
may." 

"And  I,"  said  Rivers  composedly,  "  hope  to  see  the 
matter  sifted  to  the  bottom  and  justice  administered 
unflinchingly.  I  have  studied  the  subject  from  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  first  papers  and  have  reluctantly 
arrived  at  my  conclusion.  I  agree  with  the  President." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  Senator  Byrd  positively, 
"  wrong.  I  would  stake  my  honor  on  it." 

"  I  believe,"  continued  Rivers  slowly,  "  Leigh  ab- 
stracted the  papers  with  the  full  knowledge  of  the 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          199 

Secretary,  and  that  they  are  in  collusion.  I  believe  the 
Secretary,  and  he  only,  knows  where  to  find  David 
Leigh." 

"  But  the  motive?" 

"Ah,  that,  I  grant  you,  is  a  mystery  yet  to  be  un- 
ravelled. I  am  inclined  to  look  for  the  woman  in  the 
case,  '  cherchez  la  femme, '  you  know. ' ' 

"  Hush,"  interrupted  the  Senator  hastily,  "  Isabel." 

But  it  was  too  late.  It  was,  indeed,  Isabel  standing 
in  the  doorway,  her  red-gold  hair  and  white  frock 
brought  out  most  effectively  by  the  dark  background. 
Mr.  Rivers  had  never  thought  his  fiancee  half  so  charm- 
ing as  when  she  advanced  tempestuously  and  faced  him 
with  blazing  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes. 

"  I  heard  you,"  she  said,  ignoring  his  outstretched 
hand,  "  I — heard  you!" 

Both  men  had  risen  upon  her  entrance  and  remained 
speechless. 

Senator  Byrd  glanced  nervously  about  and  breathed' 
a  sigh  of  apprehension.  His  daughter  was  plainly  a 
prey  to  the  demon  of  temper  which  he  had  hoped  was 
relegated  to  her  stormy  childhood  and  before  which  he 
had  always  stood  powerless.  Had  she  been  a  boy,  he 
sometimes  reflected,  he  would  have  known  how  to  deal 
with  her,  but  a  girl  was  very  different.  So  the  Senator 
subjected  the  imaginary  boy  to  severe  discipline,  while 
the  flesh-and-blood  girl  grew  apace. 

"  Spoiled  to  death,"  her  aunt  lamented,  but  "  mighty 
lovable,"  her  father  thought. 

Just  now,  however,  he  wished  the  boy  existed  as  he 
advanced  and  laid  a  hesitating  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"  Dinner  is  late,"  he  remarked  tentatively,  with  the 
laudable  desire  of  diverting  her  attention. 


200  THE    WIFE    OF 

But  Isabel  shook  off  the  hand  impatiently  and  ad- 
dressed herself  to  her  lover. 

"  How  dare  you  say  such  things?"  she  demanded, 
with  an  emphatic  stamp  of  her  white-shod  foot,  "  how 
dare  you?" 

"  Isabel,"  interrupted  her  father  anxiously,  "  my 
dear  child." 

"  It  isn't  so,"  continued  the  girl  quickly.  "  Why, 
Mr.  Kedmond  is  the  best  man  in  the  whole  world.  How 
dare  you  criticise  him?  How  dare  you  even  think  such 
things,  much  less  say  them?  I  know  it  isn't  so." 

"  How  do  you  know?"  inquired  Rivers  coolly;  "  hi 
fact,  how  do  you  know  anything  about  it?" 

"  I  know  it  isn't  so,"  she  said  simply,  "  because  I 
know  the  Secretary." 

The  Member  of  Congress  laughed  sarcastically. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  is  that  it?  I  thought  perhaps  Leigh 
might  have  taken  you  into  his  confidence, — you  used  to 
be  uncommonly  chummy,  you  know, — and — well,  you 
seem  to  take  a  most  extraordinary  interest  in  the 
matter. ' ' 

The  color  left  Isabel's  cheeks  suddenly  and  her  atti- 
tude became  tense  and  rigid.  The  watchful  Senator 
knew  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  thought  regretfully  of 
the  explosion  to  follow. 

' '  Dinner  is  served, ' '  said  the  butler,  appearing  oppor- 
tunely. 

With  a  polite  bow  and  an  air  of  tolerant  benignancy 
Mr.  Rivers  smiled  at  his  betrothed  and  offered  his 
arm. 

' '  Let  us  bury  the  hatchet, ' '  he  said  suavely,  ' '  and  go 
to  dinner." 

But  Isabel  was  already  half  way  across  the  room. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          201 

"  I  hate  you!"  she  exclaimed,  pausing  suddenly; 
"there!  I 'm  glad  I 've  said  it.  I  hate  you!" 

"  Upon  my  word,"  he  exclaimed  as  the  library  door 
slammed  emphatically. 

' '  She  doesn  't  mean  it,  Rivers, ' '  said  the  Senator  anx- 
iously; "  I  assure  you  she  doesn't  know  what  she's 
saying. ' ' 

The  door  opened  again  and  a  white  hand  and  arm 
appeared  in  the  aperture. 

"  Take  it  back,"  said  a  muffled  voice,  "  I  never  did 
want  it  very  much,"  and  a  small  object  fell  on  the  rug 
beside  the  Member  of  Congress  as  the  door  closed  again 
and  swiftly  flying  feet  could  be  heard  ascending  the 
stairs. 

The  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  stooped  and  picked  up  the 
ring. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  remarked,  watching  the  diamond 
flash,  "  I  will  put  this  on  again.  We  will  have  a  few 
tears  and  an  affecting  reconciliation.  Don't  apologize, 
Senator,  I  like  a  girl  of  spirit — and  I  understand 
women. ' ' 

He  put  the  ring  in  his  pocket  and  walked  thought- 
fully to  the  window  and  back. 

"All  the  same,"  he  continued  gravely,  "  I  have  got 
to  prove  to  her  that  I  am  right,  and  you  have  got  to 
make  her  be  quiet.  It's  a  pity  she  overheard.  Can  you 
keep  her  from  talking  to  anybody — mind  you,  I  mean 
anybody  whatever?" 

'  Yes,"  said  the  harassed  Senator,  "  yes,  certainly. 
Let  us  go  to  dinner,  Rivers ;  I  think  Isabel  will  not 
appear.  Perhaps  you  will  kindly  make  her  excuses  to 
Mrs.  Redmond  at  the  theatre  and  say  she  is  indisposed." 

Mr.  Rivers  cheerfully  agreed  to  deliver  the  message 


202  THE    WIFE    OF 

and  proceeded  to  enjoy  his  dinner  with  unalloyed  appe- 
tite, while  Isabel  lay  face  downward  upon  her  bed,  her 
pretty  gown  crushed  and  forgotten,  and  her  slight  form 
shaken  with  a  tempest  of  angry  sobs. 

Senator  Byrd,  after  the  departure  of  his  guest,  sat 
before  his  library  fire  and  consumed  many  meditative 
cigars. 

He  felt  relieved  to  have  no  imperative  engagement 
demanding  his  presence  and  disinclined  for  any  definite 
occupation.  So  the  Senator  smoked  on,  pondering  over 
many  things  as  the  fragrant  Havanas  slowly  disap- 
peared and  the  moments  passed. 

He  thought  of  the  guest  from  whom  he  had  just 
parted. 

"A  bright  fellow,  by  Jove!  with  a  keen  intellect. 
Undoubtedly  the  coming  man.  Isabel  is  uncommonly 
fortunate. ' ' 

He  thought  long  and  anxiously  about  the  complica- 
tions in  the  State  Department  and  their  problematical 
outcome :  of  the  Secretary,  gentle,  courteous,  honorable, 
and  of  sound  judgment;  a  man  so  popular  in  his  party 
that  he  had  more  than  once  been  suggested  as  a  suc- 
cessor to  the  President;  a  man  with  few  enemies  and 
many  friends,  and  apparently  incapable  of  a  dishonor- 
able thought;  of  David  Leigh,  and  of  the  necessarily 
intimate  and  confidential  relations  of  a  private  secre- 
tary to  his  chief. 

He  thought  of  Isabel  and  of  her  mother,  dead  since 
her  birth.  Something  had  given  way  in  the  Senator's 
heart  the  day  he  followed  his  young  wife  to  her  grave, 
and  the  vacuum  had  never  been  quite  filled. 

"  It's  a  little  girl,  dearest,"  she  had  whispered, ."  our 
little  girl,  and  I  want  so  awfully  to  live  for  her  and 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          203 

for  you.''  The  Senator  let  his  cigar  go  out,  holding  it 
listlessly  in  his  hand  as  he  lived  again  in  the  past. 

"  You  will  make  her  happy,  won't  you?"  the  faint 
voice  had  continued.  "  I  want  her  to  be  very  happy, 
and  Avhen  she  grows  up  she  must  marry  the  man  she 
loves,  as  I  did,  dear — as  I  did." 

Well,  he  had  tried  to  make  her  happy — Esther 's  child, 
with  Esther's  eyes  and  voice.  "  If  her  mother  had 
lived— 

The  log  smouldered  and  fell  apart,  and  Senator  Byrd 
roused  himself  abruptly,  put  out  the  lights,  and  went 
upstairs.  As  he  passed  his  daughter's  door  he  paused 
and  knocked  softly. 

"  Come  in,"  called  Isabel,  "  I've  been  waiting  a  long 
time,"  and  he  smiled  a  little  as  he  turned  on  the  light 
and  closed  the  door. 

Isabel  had  gone  to  bed,  and  now  sat  upright  among 
the  pillows,  her  bright  hair  streaming  down  her  back, 
and  her  arms  stretched  out  towards  her  father. 

"  I  made  an  exhibition  of  myself,"  she  exclaimed, 
pulling  his  cheek  down  to  hers,  "  didn't  I,  daddy,  as 
usual,  and  you  were  sorry." 

"  Well,"  agreed  the  Senator,  "  I  think  you  did,  little 
girl.  I  was  sorry." 

"I'm  not,"  she  said  with  a  defiant  toss  of  her  head, 
"  he  deserved  it,  and  I  hope  it  made  him  uncom- 
fortable." 

The  Senator  thought  of  Mr.  Rivers 's  placid  enjoy- 
ment of  his  dinner  and  made  no  reply.  Isabel  rested 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  sighed  contentedly. 

"  I'm  glad  you  came  in,"  she  said  slowly;  "  some- 
how I  feel  awfully  lonely  to-night." 

The  Senator  had  felt  lonely  also  down  by  the  library 


204  THE    WIFE    OF 

fire,  so  he  simply  smoothed  her  hair  caressingly  and 
said  nothing. 

"  He's  been  gone  almost  a  week,"  said  the  girl  sud- 
denly. "  What  do  you  suppose  has  become  of  him?" 

"  I  don't  know,  dear."  The  Senator  made  no  pre- 
tence at  not  understanding  to  whom  she  referred. 

"  But  what  do  you  think?" 

"  I  think,"  he  said  gravely,  "  it  looks  very  black  for 
Leigh,  Isabel." 

"  But  all  the  same,"  she  said  eagerly,  "  all  the  same, 
father,  you  don't  believe  what  Mr.  Rivers  said,  do  you?" 

Senator  Byrd  thoughtfully  twisted  a  lock  of  the 
shining  hair  about  his  finger. 

"  No,  dear,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Oh  father,"  she  exclaimed  with  an  emphatic 
squeeze,  "  you're  such  a  sensible  man." 

The  Senator  laughed  and  asked  some  questions  as  to 
her  engagements  for  the  next  few  days.  She  was  going 
to  be  with  Mrs.  Redmond  at  the  diplomatic  breakfast 
on  New  Year's  Day,  she  said,  after  that  she  did  not 
know;  she  would  like  to  go  away — Washington  was  so 
tiresome.  The  Senator  suggested  a  trip  abroad  when 
Congress  adjourned. 

"  Unless,"  he  remarked  with  some  hesitation,  "  you 
will  be  thinking  of  getting  married  about  that  time. ' ' 

Isabel  sat  upright  and  wrinkled  her  white  forehead 
portentously. 

"  I  might  as  well  tell  you,  father,"  she  said  solemnly, 
"  I  have  decided  never  to  marry.  You  don't  mind  sup- 
porting me,  do  you?" 

The  Senator  did  not  mind  at  all;  he  thought,  how- 
ever, she  might  sometime  change  her  views  on  this  point, 
but  she  shook  her  head  positively. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          205 

"  I  hate  men!"  she  said  petulantly;  "  I  hate  them  all, 
except  you,  and  I  won 't  marry  anybody. ' ' 

"  You  shall  marry  the  man  you  love,"  said  her  father 
gently;  "  but,  Isabel,  I  know  you  could  only  love  an 
honorable  man.  Isn't  that  true?" 

Isabel  sank  back  among  her  pillows  and  turned  her 
face  to  the  wall. 

"All  the  nice  men  are  dishonorable,"  she  sobbed, 
"  and  all  the  honorable  men  are  nasty.  I  shall  never, 
never  marry." 

Senator  Byrd  felt  strangely  incompetent  as  he  closed 
his  daughter's  door  some  time  later  and  sought  his  own 
room. 

"  She  needs  her  mother,"  he  thought  regretfully. 
"  Esther  would  have  known  just  what  to  do,  while  I 
should  only  bungle.  If  she  had  only  been  a  boy " 

And  the  Senator  slowly  unfastened  his  collar. 


206  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXI 


IT  was  New  Year's  Day  and  official  Washington  was 
astir  early,  for  the  Diplomatic  Corps  and  officers  of  the 
Army  and  Navy  must  pay  their  respects  to  the  Presi- 
dent, as  well  as  test  the  contents  of  various  hospitable 
punch-bowls  later  on,  according  to  long-established  cus- 
tom. So  the  city  was  gay  with  cocked  hats  and  brass 
buttons,  and  the  small  boys  upon  the  curbstones  all 
determined  upon  a  military  career,  composed  of  glory 
and  gold  lace. 

The  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  breakfasted  at  the  Metro- 
politan Club,  read  the  morning  paper,  and  considered 
how  best  to  dispose  of  the  hours  intervening  before  any 
social  obligations  claimed  his  attention.  He  was  well 
known  to  be  an  economist  in  time,  and  liked  to  employ 
every  minute  profitably. 

He  looked  over  his  mail  carefully,  and  was  surprised 
not  to  see  a  penitent  little  note  from  his  fiancee.  He 
did  indeed  receive  a  missive,  small,  perfumed,  and  ap- 
parently interesting,  for  he  read  it  twice  before  rele- 
gating it  to  the  waste-basket,  but  it  was  not  the  one  for 
which  he  waited. 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  he  reflected  as  he  buttoned  his 
overcoat,  "  it  is  a  dull  life  for  her.  I'll  drop  in  for  a 
while  this  morning." 

As  he  bent  his  steps  among  the  respectable  thorough- 
fares frequented  by  the  shabby  genteel  he  reviewed  the 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          207 

events  of  the  preceding  evening,  and  was  astonished  to 
find  himself  decidedly  apprehensive  lest  he  should  not 
have  an  opportunity  to  return  to  its  legitimate  owner 
the  ring  now  snugly  ensconced  in  his  waistcoat  pocket, 
and  as  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the  most  dingy  house  in 
the  square  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  resentment 
against  David  Leigh  nearly  akin  to  jealousy,  a  sensa- 
tion to  which  the  Member  of  Congress  had  hitherto 
believed  himself  immune. 

"  What  a  pretty  spitfire  she  looked,"  he  remarked 
aloud  as  he  pulled  the  bell  and  inquired  for  Miss  Gray. 

Christine  was  in  her  third  floor  back,  improving  the 
opportunity  offered  her  by  a  legal  holiday  to  perform 
the  mysterious  rite  dear  to  most  women  known  as  "  fix- 
ing up  the  top  drawer. ' '  A  heterogeneous  collection  of 
treasures  was  heaped  beside  the  bureau,  and  Christine 
herself  sat  upon  the  floor,  surrounded  by  bits  of  ribbon, 
soiled  gloves,  faded  flowers,  and  the  various  trifles  accu- 
mulated by  girls  in  all  stations  of  life.  She  had  paused 
in  her  researches,  however,  and  was  gazing  with  a 
puzzled  expression  at  a  long,  sealed  envelope  just  un- 
earthed from  beneath  a  pile  of  handkerchiefs. 

"  Where  did  I  get  it?"  she  remarked,  turning  it  over 
curiously,  "  where  in  the  world  did  I  get  it?" 

The  one  word  indistinctly  written  in  pencil  afforded 
no  clue,  so,  after  hesitating  a  moment,  she  broke  the  seal 
and  drew  out  the  enclosure. 

"  Department  of  State.  Confidential,"  she  read 
aloud,  then  paused  suddenly  and  turned  over  the  papers 
with  a  troubled  face.  Christine  had  been  employed  by 
the  Government  long  enough  to  realize  that  a  document 
so  labelled  had  no  legal  right  in  her  top  bureau  drawer. 

So  she  rested  her  chin  in  her  hand  and  looked  at  the 


208  THE    WIFE    OF 

papers  very  much  as  she  might  have  regarded  an  un- 
welcome black  spider. 

"  I  know,"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  I  know.  It 
was  Mr.  Marks — the  ossification  papers  and  the  white 
hyacinths.  I  remember  all  about  it,  but  how  did 
he "  and  again  the  chin  went  down  into  the  hand. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  Mr.  Rivers  was  announced  by 
the  slipshod  maid,  who  looked  at  her  with  an  ill-con- 
cealed curiosity  of  which  Christine  was  entirely  uncon- 
scious. With  an  exclamation  of  relief  she  gathered  the 
papers  together,  thrust  the  envelope  into  the  bosom  of 
her  shirtwaist,  and  ran  downstairs. 

The  Member  of  Congress  listened  patiently  to  the 
confused  account  of  the  white  hyacinths,  tiresome  young 
men,  and  official  papers,  into  which  she  launched  as 
soon  as  possible,  ending  with  the  lucid  remark, — 

"And  when  I  heard  you  were  here  I  was  so  delighted, 
for  I  knew  you  could  tell  me  what  to  do  with  them. ' ' 

"  Perhaps,"  he  suggested  at  last,  "  if  you  would  let 
me  look  at  them,  or  at  least  tell  me  what  they  are  about, 
I  might  be  able  to  be  of  some  assistance." 

' '  Why, ' '  she  said,  producing  the  long  envelope,  "  it 's 
awfully  funny,  but  do  you  remember  the  word  on  the 
scrap  of  paper  we  found  in  the  Octagon  House — Roost- 
chook,  I  think,  or  something  like  that?  Well,  it's  about 
that ;  I  mean  the  papers  are  about  Roostchook — whatever 
that  is." 

"  Let  me  see  them,"  said  Rivers  quickly,  his  manner 
alert  and  interested. 

With  growing  astonishment  he  took  them  to  the 
window,  read  them  slowly,  returned  them  to  their  enve- 
lope, and  put  it  carefully  in  his  pocket. 

"  Now,"  he  said  quietly,  "  tell  me  about  it  all  over 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          209 

again,"  and  Christine  repeated  her  story,  adding  anx- 
iously : 

"And  what  had  I  better  do  about  it?  I  feel  dread- 
fully worried. ' ' 

He  laughed  carelessly  and  seated  himself  on  the  sofa 
beside  her. 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  said,  "  it  brings  wrinkles.  You 
need  not  give  the  subject  another  thought,  but  it  is 
fortunate  you  happened  to  give  the  papers  to  me.  Of 
course,  I  shall  simply  return  them  to  the  State  Depart- 
ment and  there  the  matter  will  end,  but  don't  accept 
any  more  presents  from  this  peculiar  young  man  with- 
out looking  at  them.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
where  he  got  them  and  why. ' ' 

"  Well,"  replied  Christine,  dimpling  suddenly,  "  you 
can  ask  him.  I  expect  him  here  this  morning." 

"  By  the  way,"  he  interrupted  hastily,  "  don't  men- 
tion the  papers  to  him.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  wise 
to  agitate  the  subject,  especially  as  he  has  apparently 
forgotten  it." 

"  But,"  objected  Christine,  "  I  want  to  ask  him  where 
he  got  them." 

"  Much  better  let  the  whole  thing  drop  and  forget 
it.  Now  let  us  talk  about  something  more  interesting — 
yourself,  for  instance.  Have  you  recovered  from  your 
fright?  I  reproach  myself  for  leaving  you  alone  even 
for  a  few  moments,  but  I  am  interested  in  old  houses 
and  wanted  to  explore.  Would  you  trust  yourself  to 
me  again?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl  shyly,  "  anywhere.  But,"  she 
added  with  a  little  shiver,  "  it  was  not  imagination.  I 
did  hear  that  sigh,  and  it  was  heart-rending." 

"  Sometime  I  am  going  there  to  listen  for  it,  mean- 

14 


210  THE    WIFE    OF 

while  I  have  brought  you  a  little  New  Year's  gift  to 
help  you  forget  an  unpleasant  experience." 

With  shining  eyes  and  trembling  fingers  Christine 
unwrapped  the  little  box  and  raised  the  lid. 

"  Oh!"  she  gasped,  and  relapsed  into  wondering 
silence. 

The  Member  of  Congress  lifted  a  string  of  pearls 
from  which  hung  a  little  ruby  heart. 

"  I  brought  it  to  you  myself,"  he  whispered,  leaning 
towards  her,  ' '  that  I  might  put  it  on.  May  I  ? 

"  I  thought  the  pearls  were  perfect,"  he  continued 
as  he  fastened  the  clasp,  "  but  now  I  see  them  on  your 
neck  they  look  less  pure  by  contrast." 

It  was  at  this  interesting  juncture  Mr.  Marks  elected 
to  appear,  his  hair  more  rampantly  erect  than  usual, 
and  an  unfortunate  tendency  to  talk  through  his  nose 
aggravated  by  a  cold  in  the  head.  He  carried  a  large 
handkerchief  with  a  red  border  which  he  was  obliged  to 
use  frequently,  and  was  sublimely  unconscious  of  the 
lack  of  cordiality  in  his  welcome. 

After  an  interested  scrutiny  of  his  rival  for  some 
minutes  Rivers  departed,  donning  his  overcoat  hi  the 
contracted  little  hall  with  a  strange  mixture  of  sensa- 
tions. The  Roostchook  papers  were  safe  in  his  pocket, 
and  he  was  proved  wrong  in  the  theory  he  had  advanced 
to  Senator  Byrd.  It  now  only  remained  for  him  to 
restore  them  to  their  proper  custodian  and  to  put  the 
Secret  Service  men  in  touch  with  Mr.  Marks  in  order 
to  recover  the  second  lost  paper.  His  course  was  per- 
fectly clear,  and  the  whole  unfortunate  affair  seemed 
to  be  gradually  drawing  to  a  close. 

Yet,  as  he  walked  slowly  down  the  street,  Mr.  Rivers 
had  not  the  bearing  of  a  man  pleased  with  the  world  in 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          211 

general.  Rather,  he  was  lost  in  the  mazes  of  a  brown 
study  which  did  not  appear  to  afford  him  much  grati- 
fication. 

"  Redmond  forced  to  resign,"  he  said  reflectively  to 
his  inner  self,  "  forced  to  resign  and  out  of  the  way, 
it  is  all  plain  sailing  and  the  White  House  one  term 
nearer. ' ' 

The  wind  Hew  sharply  around  the  corner  and  took 
liberties  with  his  hat,  but  he  had  a  reason  for  turning 
down  that  particular  street  and  did  so  after  a  brief 
battle  with  the  interfering  elements.  It  was  Mr.  Rivers 's 
custom  to  accomplish  whatever  object  he  had  in  view 
in  spite  of  obstacles,  so  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
Octagon  House,  breathless  but  triumphant. 

Apparently  his  previous  visit  had  but  whetted  his 
curiosity,  for  once  again  he  explored  the  old  rooms  care- 
fully, regardless  of  the  dust  which  marked  his  immacu- 
late coat-sleeve  with  unsightly  streaks. 

The  lower  floor  was  indisputably  empty ;  he  therefore 
quietly  ascended  the  curved  stairway  and  explored  the 
second  and  third  floors. 

The  caretaker's  door  was  inhospitably  shut,  but  as  he 
lingered  on  the  landing  he  heard  a  low,  indistinguish- 
able murmur,  and  a  soothing,  decided  voice  in  reply; 
he  also  heard  a  clinking  as  of  a  spoon  against  a  glass 
and  the  unmistakable  gurgle  of  water  when  poured 
from  a  jug.  A  chair  was  moved  hastily,  scraping  noisily 
over  the  bare  boards,  and  the  doorknob  turned  quietly. 

Instinctively  the  Member  of  Congress  stepped  into 
the  adjoining  room  and  partly  closed  the  door  in  such 
a  manner  that  he  could  command  a  view  of  the  stairs 
and  remain  himself  unseen.  He  was  conscious  of  a 
decided  thrill  of  astonishment  at  the  figure  which  pres- 


212  THE    WIFE    OF 

ently  passed  within  his  range  of  vision.  Instead  of  the 
typical  janitor,  careworn  and  shabby,  he  saw  an  immac- 
ulate old  gentleman  with  shining  silk  hat  and  carefully 
buttoned  black  frock-coat  over  pearl-gray  trousers,  and 
a  carnation  in  his  buttonhole. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  remarked  Mr.  Rivers  aloud  as  he 
heard  the  front  door  close,  "  it  grows  interesting." 

Advancing  softly,  he  stood  before  the  caretaker's 
room  and  gazed  earnestly  at  the  placard  upon  the  door. 
As  he  stood  there  he  heard  a  sigh  from  within,  long, 
slow,  and  filled  with  weariness,  such  a  sigh  as  Christine 
Gray  had  described  so  graphically  when  she  told  him 
the  story  of  her  fright.  The  Member  of  Congress  did 
not  disdain  to  put  his  ear  close  to  the  door  and  listen 
intently;  he  did  not  fear  the  supernatural,  and  the 
actual  was,  as  he  said,  interesting.  The  sigh  was  re- 
peated, followed  after  a  moment's  silence  by  the  low 
muttering  he  had  previously  heard. 

After  a  little  hesitation  he  knocked  softly  and,  getting 
no  response,  turned  the  knob  quietly. 

The  room  looked  bare  and  comfortless  enough  as  he 
entered,  with  its  few  accessories  for  the  convenience  of 
its  occupant.  Moreover,  it  was  quite  empty. 

The  uninvited  guest  looked  curiously  about  and 
sniffed  the  air  thoughtfully,  for  the  odor  of  kerosene 
was  apparent,  although  no  lamp  was  visible.  It  seemed 
to  him  to  come  from  an  adjoining  closet,  and  he  was 
about  to  follow  it  when  his  glance  fell  upon  the  rickety 
table,  upon  which  a  piece  of  tracing-paper  was  carefully 
fastened  with  thumb-tacks.  With  an  exclamation  of 
astonishment  he  examined  the  incomplete  drawing,  in- 
tently following  its  details  and  now  and  then  giving 
vent  to  an  astonished  whistle. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          213 

"  Water!"  said  a  voice  suddenly,  thick  and  inar- 
ticulate; "  for  God's  sake,  water!" 

Rivers  straightened  himself  abruptly  and  felt  a 
momentary  regret  that  he  was  alone  and  unarmed.  The 
sound  undoubtedly  came  from  behind  the  door  he  had 
supposed  led  into  the  closet,  and  whence  now  proceeded 
the  low  muttering  he  had  heard  from  the  landing, 
varied  at  intervals  by  a  long  sigh  and  the  movement  of 
a  restless  body,  unmistakably  human  and  evidently  in 
pain. 

Wasting  no  time  in  speculation,  he  opened  the  door 
leading  into  the  small  inner  room  and  paused  upon  the 
threshold  to  reconnoitre.  He  saw  a  kerosene-stove  doing 
its  odorous  best  to  consume  the  surrounding  oxygen,  a 
broken  chair  on  which  were  grouped  a  few  bottles  and 
glasses,  and  upon  the  floor  in  the  corner  a  narrow 
mattress  upon  which  tossed  and  muttered  a  figure. 

' '  Water ! "  it  cried  imperatively.  "  I  'm  burning  up, 
I  tell  ,you — water!" 

The  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  took  a  glass  of  water  from 
the  chair  and  advanced  to  the  cot.  Kneeling  down  upon 
the  dusty  boards,  regardless  of  their  effect  upon  his 
spotless  trousers,  he  held  the  water  to  the  hot,  parched 
lips,  and  exhaustively  studied  the  flushed  face  upon 
the  pillow. 

Rising  from  his  knees  he  replaced  the  glass  upon  the 
chair  and  went  into  the  caretaker's  room  with  the 
manner  of  one  who  walks  in  his  sleep.  Involuntarily 
he  bent  over  the  table  and  again  examined  the  unfin- 
ished drawing.  After  a  while  his  hand  sought  his  pocket 
and  he  produced  the  white  envelope  so  recently  escaped 
from  Christine's  upper  drawer.  He  weighed  it  care- 
fully, first  in  one  hand,  then  in  the  other,  advanced  a 


214  THE    WIFE    OF 

few  steps,  hesitated,  and  advanced  again,  his  fingers 
tightening  about  the  envelope. 

"  His  daughter  Isabel,"  murmured  the  figure  on  the 
floor,  "  announces  the  engagement  of  his  daughter 
Isabel — water ! — I  want  water ! ' ' 

The  Member  of  Congress  again  knelt  beside  the  cot 
and  put  the  glass  to  the  fevered  lips.  He  remained  in 
this  lowly  position  for  some  minutes,  and  when  he  rose 
held  nothing  in  his  hands  except  an  empty  glass. 

When  he  emerged  from  the  Octagon  House  a  little 
later  he  walked  with  the  preoccupied  air  of  one  absorbed 
in  thought,  and  was  even  guilty  of  not  returning  the 
salutations  of  passing  acquaintances.  Upon  reaching 
the  Club  he  sat  down  beside  a  little  table  and  ordered 
a  brandy  and  soda. 

"And  let  it  be  stiff,"  he  admonished  the  waiter. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          215 


XXII 


COLONEL  ST.  JOHN,  on  leaving  his  residence,  drew  on 
a  pair  of  fresh  gloves  and  walked  briskly  up  the  street. 
He  intended  to  do  a  little  New  Year's  visiting  and  the 
prospect  was  exhilarating,  for  he  was  by  nature  gre- 
garious and  had  been  for  some  time  debarred  from  the 
pleasures  of  society.  Therefore  he  walked  quickly,  with 
head  erect  and  shoulders  well  back,  as  became  a  military 
man. 

Threading  his  way  among  the  carriages  and  pedes- 
trians which  blocked  the  street  before  the  house  of  the 
Secretary  of  State,  he  hesitated  a  moment,  then  walked 
boldly  up  the  broad  stone  steps  in  the  wake  of  the 
German  Ambassador. 

The  Diplomatic  Corps  had  called  upon  the  President 
and  its  members  were  now  assembled  in  full  regalia  to 
partake  of  the  breakfast  annually  tendered  them  by  the 
Secretary  of  State. 

"  Madame,"  remarked  Monsieur  du  Pre  impressively, 
"  may  the  New  Year  contain  for  you  only  happi- 
ness. ' ' 

And  the  little  Frenchman,  having  exchanged  the  com- 
pliments of  the  season  with  his  hostess,  twisted  up  the 
ends  of  his  mustache  and  passed  on. 

"  How  tired  she  looks,  la  belle  Madame,"  he  re- 
marked to  Lyndhurst,  whom  he  encountered  in  the  door- 
way; "  the  season  has  begun  to  weary  her." 


216  THE    WIFE    OF 

The  Englishman,  after  a  moment's  survey,  acquiesced. 

"  She  looks  ill,"  he  said  quietly,  "  but  then  she  has 
been  standing  a  long  time  at  the  White  House.  No 
doubt,  as  you  say,  she  is  tired." 

Monsieur  du  Pre  turned  to  greet  an  acquaintance  and 
Lyndhurst  resumed  his  position  in  the  doorway,  enjoy- 
ing the  brilliant  spectacle,  for  the  representatives  of  the 
various  countries  wore  their  native  costumes  and  the 
spacious  rooms  glowed  with  the  colors  of  the  Orient  and 
glittered  with  the  gold  lace  and  uniforms  of  many 
nations. 

The  Chinese  Minister  conversed  amicably  with  the 
Secretary,  whose  tall,  spare  figure  in  its  black  coat 
looked  sombre  indeed  beside  the  robes  celestial  of  his 
guest,  and  Lyndhurst  smiled  at  the  contrast. 

Suddenly  he  saw  an  ashen  pallor  overspread  Mrs. 
Redmond's  face,  and  she  swayed  as  though  about  to 
fall.  Recovering  herself  with  a  visible  effort,  she  ex- 
tended her  hand  to  the  British  Ambassador  and  returned 
his  salutation. 

Following  the  direction  of  her  eyes,  the  young  At- 
tache saw  nothing  alarming — merely  the  dignified  back 
of  an  old  gentleman  in  severely  correct  morning  costume 
about  to  pass  into  the  adjoining  room.  Lyndhurst  recol- 
lected that  Miss  Byrd  was  also  there  and  prepared  to 
follow  him.  As  he  turned  to  do  so  he  saw  Count  Vald- 
mir  enter  and  greet  Mrs.  Redmond;  he  also  saw  her 
whisper  a  few  hurried  words,  to  which  the  Russian 
apparently  made  a  soothing  reply  and  immediately 
sought  the  dining-room. 

Lyndhurst  wondered  greatly.  He  had  found  much 
food  for  reflection  since  his  sojourn  in  America,  and 
the  longer  he  thought  the  more  puzzled  he  became,  so 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          217 

he  merely  followed  the  example  of  the  old  gentleman 
and  went  into  the  dining-room. 

Colonel  St.  John  had  yielded  to  a  sudden  impulse  in 
presenting  himself  at  his  daughter's  house.  He  knew 
he  would  have  no  difficulty  in  gaining  admittance,  as 
he  had  among  his  relics  of  past  prosperity  garments 
suitable  for  the  occasion.  He  trusted  to  the  severely 
aristocratic  bearing  he  could  assume  when  necessary  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  though  said  garments  were  of  irre- 
proachable fit  and  quality,  they  were  somewhat  out  of 
date  as  to  style,  and  handed  his  overcoat  to  the  servant 
so  haughtily  that  the  man  forebore  to  notice  its  cut  and 
deposited  it  among  its  fellows  with  marked  respect. 

He  had  no  definite  object  in  view,  and  was  well  aware 
of  the  risk  he  ran  in  thus  exposing  himself  to  public 
gaze.  Colonel  St.  John,  however,  had  nursed  a  wounded 
spirit  ever  since  his  daughter  had  visited  him,  and  was 
sullenly  determined  to  extort  money  from  her  in  spite 
of  the  injunctions  to  the  contrary  he  had  received  from 
Count  Valdmir.  Also,  he  wished  to  prove  to  the  latter 
that  he  possessed  some  independence  of  spirit.  In  fact, 
he  had  grown  restive  under  his  chains  and  thought  he 
saw  his  opportunity  of  escape  through  his  daughter,  or 
his  daughter's  husband.  Consequently,  like  certain 
species  of  wild  animals,  Colonel  St.  John  cringed  before 
his  master  while  entirely  in  his  power,  but  snarled  and 
showed  his  teeth  when  escape  seemed  not  impossible. 
As  to  Lyndhurst — well,  he  trusted  to  the  crowded  rooms 
to  avoid  him.  Moreover,  a  contingency  had  recently 
arisen  making  it  most  desirable  for  him  to  leave  America 
as  speedily  and  quietly  as  possible,  and  he  felt  con- 
vinced that  the  time  had  arrived  when  a  bold  stroke 
was  advisable. 


218  THE    WIFE    OF 

The  Colonel,  therefore,  bowed  low  before  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, and  much  enjoyed  the  pallor  which  overspread 
her  face  and  the  trembling  hand  extended  to  the  British 
Ambassador,  who  followed  in  his  wake.  Already  he 
saw  himself  living  in  luxurious  idleness  in  some  con- 
genial retreat  across  the  water,  with  a  bottomless  purse 
in  Washington  always  to  be  opened  by  a  suggested 
return  to  that  city. 

So  he  entered  the  dining-room  jauntily  and  helped 
himself  to  a  glass  of  wine.  Colonel  St.  John  had  been 
a  connoisseur  in  wine  before  his  palate  had  become 
vitiated  by  bad  whiskey,  and  the  vintage  offered  his 
guests  by  the  Secretary  was  beyond  reproach.  The 
Colonel  took  a  second  glass  immediately,  then  made  the 
circuit  of  the  room  and  lifted  another  decanter;  he 
evidently  thought  he  was  going  to  enjoy  himself  very 
much. 

Count  Valdmir  followed  Colonel  St.  John  to  the 
dining-room  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  had  said  quietly  to  Mrs. 
Redmond  in  reply  to  her  agitated  whisper,  "  he  shall 
go  immediately.  I  will  see  to  it." 

The  Russian  anticipated  no  difficulty  in  fulfilling  his 
promise.  He  felt  coldly  angry  that  his  tool  should  thus 
have  taken  the  initiative,  and  determined  to  bring  their 
relations  to  a  close  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  ship  him 
to  some  remote  corner  of  the  world  where  he  could  be 
kept  stationary  by  police  surveillance. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Colonel,"  he  re- 
marked politely,  appearing  suddenly  at  the  old  man's 
elbow. 

Colonel  St.  John,  however,  was  on  his  guard  and  not 
to  be  surprised  by  a  flank  attack. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          219 

"  The  pleasure  is  wholly  mine,"  he  replied  suavely 
in  his  most  impressive  manner. 

"  I  was  much  surprised,  Colonel,  to  meet  you  here." 

"  Is  it  not  the  custom  in  Russia,  Count,  for  a  man  to 
visit  his  daughter?" 

There  was  undeniable  challenge  in  the  last  remark, 
and  Colonel  St.  John  raised  his  glass  with  the  smile 
of  one  who  has  uttered  a  bon-mot  and  awaits  its  effect. 

The  Russian  glanced  hastily  about  the  crowded  room 
and  saw  they  were  unobserved,  so  he  stepped  closer  to 
his  companion  with  bent  brows  and  threatening  aspect. 
'  Do  you  forget  the  police?"  he  said  in  a  hurried 
whisper.  "  If  you  become  troublesome,  I  can  easily 
send  them  to  you." 

"  How  well  it  would  look  in  the  newspapers,"  re- 
turned the  old  man  reflectively.  "  I  can  see  the  head- 
lines now:  '  Father  of  Mrs.  Redmond,  the  wife  of  the 
Secretary  of  State,'  in  large  type  you  know. 

"  By  the  way,  Count,"  he  continued  slowly,  "  I  wish 
you  would  visit  me  at  my  secluded  residence.  I  need 
your  assistance.  There  was  an  unfortunate  contre- 
temps. I  am  in  difficulty — quite  an  embarrassing  posi- 
tion for  one  of  my  years.  I  have  (no  doubt  you  will  be 
surprised  to  hear  it)  a  guest." 

"A  guest?" 

Colonel  St.  John  moved  towards  an  open  space  behind 
some  potted  plants. 

"  Let  us  stand  here,"  he  said  composedly,  "  out  of 
the  crush.  What  a  brilliant  scene!  It  quite  recalls 
other  days.  Yes,  Count,  a  guest.  You  remember  the 
paper  in  which  you  are  interested?" 

"  Be  careful.    Yes.    Did  you  get  it?" 

"Ah,  thereby  hangs  a  tale.    The  day  after  Christmas 


220  THE    WIFE    OF 

my  duty  to  my  country — and  to  you — kept  me  in  the 
State  Department  until  quite  late  at  night.  I  went  out 
the  door  opposite  the  Mall,  preparatory  to  seeking  Jack- 
son City,  and " 

"Well?" 

Colonel  St.  John  did  not  reply.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  opposite  doorway  in  a  helpless,  glassy  stare,  and 
his  knees  shook  in  a  manner  much  at  variance  with  his 
former  air  of  easy  braggadocio. 

' '  Lyndhurst ! "  he  gasped.  ' '  He  is  looking  this  way. 
I  think  he  knows  me." 

Upon  reaching  the  dining-room  Lyndhurst  adjusted 
his  eyeglasses  and  looked  for  Miss  Byrd.  Before  he  dis- 
covered her,  however,  he  chanced  to  glance  at  the  oppo- 
site corner  and  noticed  the  figure  he  had  seen  a  short 
time  previous  and  whom  he  judged  to  be  an  unwelcome 
guest.  As  he  looked  his  first  idle  curiosity  was  re- 
placed by  incredulous  astonishment,  gradually  changing 
into  unwilling  conviction.  And  Mrs.  Redmond,  stand- 
ing a  few  niches  behind  him  in  the  broad  hall,  looked 
also  with  a  sickening  sense  of  impending  catastrophe 
not  unlike  the  moments  of  oppressive  breathlessness 
immediately  preceding  the  crash  of  a  storm. 

"  He  recognizes  you,"  observed  Count  Valdmir 
coolly.  "  I  am  not  sorry.  Your  blood  is  on  your  own 
head." 

"You'll  help  me  out?" 

"  Not  I,  Colonel.  You  came  uninvited,  and  you  may 
get  out  the  best  way  you  can. ' ' 

The  old  man  laid  a  shaking  hand  on  his  companion's 
arm. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  quickly,  "  I  was  just  going  to  tell 
you — I've  got  the  paper." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          221 

"  Which  paper?    I  lack  two." 

"  The  first.  The  story  of  the  Roostchook  case:  the 
confidential  history — the  under  side." 

' '  Turn  your  head  aside ;  Lyndhurst  may  not  be  sure 
of  you.  Now  give  it  to  me." 

"  It  is  not  here.  I  left  it  in  my  room.  If  I  get  away 
safely, — safely,  Count, — you  shall  have  it.  Otherwise  it 
is  lost  to  Russia. ' ' 

Count  Valdmir  hesitated  a  moment,  then  lifted  the 
heavy  portiere  beside  him. 

"  This  passage,"  he  said  hurriedly,  "  leads  into  the 
front  hall.  Be  quick.  I  will  see  that  you  get  out  safely 
because  I  need  your  assistance;  I  will  also  accompany 
you  to  the  front  door  to  make  sure  you  do  not  conceal 
yourself  anywhere  in  this  house.  As  I  told  you,  she 
shall  not  be  annoyed  by  you  while  I  can  prevent  it. 
This  way,  Colonel.  I  will  see  you  later.  I  must  have 
that  paper  to-night.  Do  you  understand?" 

Lyndhurst  watched  the  two  figures  disappear  behind 
the  heavy  portiere.  Instinctively  he  turned  to  follow 
them,  but  paused  abruptly,  for  his  hostess  stood  di- 
rectly in  his  path,  her  eyes  raised  to  his  filled  with 
the  dominant  note  of  appeal  that  he  had  once  before 
encountered.  And  as  he  hesitated  he  heard  the  front 
door  close. 

The  Englishman  took  out  his  monocle,  polished  and 
carefully  readjusted  it.  It  was  his  ever-present  refuge 
in  moments  of  embarrassment. 

"  Madame,"  said  Count  Valdmir,  appearing  sud- 
denly beside  them,  "  will  you  not  allow  me  to  get  you  a 
glass  of  wine?  One  should  welcome  the  New  Year 
cordially — eh,  Lyndhurst  ? ' ' 

"  I  do  not  want  the  wine,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  as 


222  THE    WIFE    OF 

they  turned  away,  "  but  I  must  sit  down  a  moment ;  my 
head  whirls." 

He  drew  forward  a  chair  in  an  alcove  in  the  hall, 
screened  by  a  tall  palm  and  comparatively  quiet. 

"  Do  not  be  troubled,"  he  said  gently,  "  he  has  gone. 
I  shall  insist  upon  his  leaving  the  country  immediately. ' ' 

' '  You  are  kind  sometimes,  Count,  and  I  am  grateful. ' ' 

She  rested  her  head  against  the  high,  carved  back  of 
her  chair,  and  it  seemed  to  the  man  looking  down  upon 
her  that  the  dark  mahogany  afforded  a  most  appropriate 
setting  for  the  pure  flesh-tints  against  it.  Count  Vald- 
mir  possessed  decided  artistic  tendencies  and  appreciated 
a  picture  perfect  in  all  its  details. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  closing  her  eyes  wearily, 
"  very  tired." 

Outside  a  carriage-door  slammed  and  the  roll  of 
wheels  filled  the  ensuing  pause. 

The  Russian  Attache  stood  for  some  minutes  in  silence, 
and  when  at  last  he  spoke  it  was  reluctantly,  as  though 
he  would  gladly  have  left  the  stillness  unbroken. 

"  It  is — Thursday,"  he  said  slowly. 

The  dark  lashes  lifted  suddenly,  and  a  soft  flush  re- 
placed the  pallor  of  her  cheeks  as  she  replied  in  a  voice 
which  hesitated  somewhat,  as  though  unwilling  to  per- 
form its  task  of  articulation: 

'  You  have  said  very  kind,  very  complimentary 
things  to  me  sometimes,  Count.  I  wonder  if  you  mean 
them?  I  wonder  if  you  really — care?" 

He  came  closer  and  leaned  over  the  back  of  the  chair, 
his  hand  grasping  the  grinning  griffins  carved  upon  its 
arms. 

"  Care!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  How  like  a  woman! 
Care " 


223 

"  Hush,"  she  interrupted,  "  we  will  be  noticed.  It 
is,  as  you  did  not  fail  to  remind  me,  Thursday.  I  will 
keep  my  word  unless  you  voluntarily  release  me.  Now 
listen." 

She  paused  and  touched  her  lips  with  her  lace-edged 
handkerchief  while  the  rose  in  her  corsage  stirred 
uneasily. 

"  To-night,"  she  resumed  with  an  effort,  "  I  had 
promised  to  meet  you.  Instead,  you  may  come  here  at 
ten  o'clock.  I  will  receive  you  alone." 

"  Quite  alone?" 

"  Quite  alone,  Count  Valdmir.  Senator  Byrd  gives 
a  stag  dinner  and  my  husband  is  a  guest.  I  can  allow 
you  one  hour." 

"An  hour  passes  quickly.  Can  you  not  be  more 
generous  ? ' ' 

"  One  hour,"  she  repeated.  "  I  am  engaged  for  the 
early  evening,  and  later  it  is  not  safe.  May  I  expect 
you?" 

"  I  shall  be  punctual,  Madame." 

"  Estelle,"  said  the  Secretary,  appearing  from 
behind  the  palm,  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you.  Baron 
von  Wertman  is  going." 


224  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXIII 


SOME  hours  later  Estelle  Redmond  lay  on  the  couch 
in  her  dressing-room  with  closed  eyes  and  throbbing 
temples.  She  heard  the  voices  of  the  servants  as  they 
moved  quietly  about,  setting  the  house  to  rights,  and 
submitted  unresistingly  to  the  ministrations  of  Jose- 
phine and  the  cologne  bottle.  The  touch  of  the  maid's 
cool  fingers  was  pleasant  to  her  hot  forehead,  and  their 
slow,  regular  motion  insensibly  soothing,  but  at  last  her 
mistress  turned  away  her  head  and  motioned  her  to  stop. 

"  Thank  you,  Josephine,"  she  said  gently,  "  it  was 
very  refreshing.  If  you  will  leave  me  alone  now  I  think 
I  can  sleep." 

And  the  maid  smoothed  the  crushed  pillow  and  noise- 
lessly departed. 

The  winter  twilight  deepened,  and  still  she  lay 
motionless,  gazing  with  wide,  sleepless  eyes  at  the  gath- 
ering shadows.  The  room  was  filled  with  ghosts,  per- 
sistent in  their  silent  obtrusiveness. 

The  ghosts  brought  pictures  with  them — a  constantly 
changing  panorama  which  would  not  be  ignored.  Again 
and  again  it  passed  before  her  with  increasing  dis- 
tinctness. 

She  saw  a  little  girl,  at  first  systematically  neglected, 
and  left  to  pick  up  what  crumbs  of  knowledge  she  could, 
and  then,  grown  older,  a  subject  of  discussion  between 
her  father  and  his  friends ;  she  heard  the  child 's  points 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          225 

checked  off  one  by  one, — eyes,  hair,  complexion, — and 
one  man  say  with  a  coarse  laugh: 

' '  By  Jove,  St.  John,  she  '11  be  your  strongest  card ! 
Better  invest  a  little  money  in  her. ' ' 

Well,  the  money  had  been  spent  lavishly,  and  Estelle 
understood  now  how  profitable  the  investment  had  been. 

She  recalled  the  winter  in  Egypt  and  the  hurried 
flight  thence  one  night.  That  was  the  year  her  father 
gave  her  the  opals,  with  a  tender  little  speech  about  her 
mother  and  the  jewels  she  had  left  in  his  keeping  for 
her  little  girl.  And  she  had  guarded  them  carefully 
even  during  the  period  of  poverty  and  loneliness  in 
Paris.  Now  she  doubted  whether  her  mother  had  ever 
seen  them,  and  was  oppressed  by  their  possession. 

She  remembered  Berlin  and  her  horrified  awakening; 
also  Paris,  and  the  happiness  which  had  come  to  her 
there.  And  always  when  the  scene  of  retrospection 
changed  from  country  to  country,  two  dominant  figures 
stood  beside  her  in  the  foreground — her  father  and 
Count  Valdmir. 

Estelle  turned  restlessly.  Was  there  no  peace  in  the 
world?  She  heard  her  husband  ascend  the  stairs  and 
pass  into  her  sitting-room.  His  step,  she  noted,  had 
become  singularly  slow  of  late. 

The  clock  struck  six.  At  ten  she  would  receive  Count 
Valdmir. 

Estelle  sat  suddenly  upright  with  clinched  hands  and 
burning  cheeks. 

"  In  his  own  house,"  she  said,  glancing  towards  the 
next  door,  "  his  own  house." 

She  sat  for  some  minutes  on  the  edge  of  the  couch 
gazing  at  the  portiere  which  hung  at  the  communicating 
door.  As  she  looked  a  strange  sensation  of  peace  and 

15 


226  THE    WIFE    OF 

security  gradually  replaced  the  turmoil  of  her  mind,  and 
her  lips  curved  in  a  tremulous  smile.  After  a  moment 
she  rose  and  moved  slowly  towards  the  door. 

"  I  '11  tell  him, ' '  she  whispered  as  she  crossed  the  room. 
"  Why,  of  course.  It's  very  easy.  I'll  tell  him  every- 
thing myself — and  he'll  understand.  He'll  be  very 
sorry,  but  he  '11  understand. ' ' 

Her  husband  sat  upon  a  couch  beside  the  fire  leaning 
back  against  the  soft  pillows  and  watching  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  the  burning  logs.  He  did  not  hear  Mrs. 
Redmond  raise  the  portiere  and  enter,  for  he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  thought.  Half  way  across  the  room  she  paused 
uncertainly.  How  tired  he  looked — how  very  tired ! 

"John,"  she  said  softly. 

The  Secretary  turned  quickly. 

"  Room  for  two,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  arms, 
"  room  for  two,  Estelle." 

He  drew  her  down  upon  the  couch  beside  him,  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder.  One  arm  was  about  her  waist, 
the  other  held  her  soft  white  hand,  and  occasionally 
raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"John, "  she  repeated,  and  again  paused  irresolute. 

The  Secretary  looked  at  his  wife  and  smiled.  It  was 
a  smile  which  came  from  his  heart  and  drove  from  his 
face  the  lines  of  care.  In  his  eyes  shone  love, — bound- 
less, generous,  and  capable  of  much  endurance, — a  love 
based  on  faith  and  secure  in  its  utter  confidence. 

"Is  it  anything  especial,  dearest?"  he  said,  the  arm 
about  her  waist  tightening  a  little. 

Mrs.  Redmond  made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  speak; 
her  breath  came  quickly  and  she  was  oppressed  with  a 
sensation  of  smothering.  Only  a  moment  she  hesitated, 
then  looked  up  into  his  eyes  with  an  answering  smile. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          227 

"  No,  John,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  wanted  to  be  with 
you." 

The  log  blazed  up  cheerfully,  its  rosy  light  falling 
upon  the  white  folds  of  her  dressing-gown  and  touching 
gently  her  brow  and  hair. 

"  Estelle,"  said  the  Secretary  slowly,  "  would  you 
like  to  go  abroad?" 

"  For  the  summer,  dear?" 

' '  For  as  long  as  you  please. ' ' 

"  But  could  you  be  spared  indefinitely,  John?" 

"  I  think  so,"  he  said  regretfully;  "  in  fact,  Estelle, 
I  think  I  will  be  spared  altogether.  I  am  going  to 
resign." 

"  What?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  sat  upright  and  pushed  back  her  hair. 

' '  To  resign ! ' '  she  repeated. 

"  Do  you  mind  so  much  giving  up  your  high  estate, 
my  dear?  I  am  sorry." 

"  It  isn't  that,"  she  said  breathlessly;  "  you  know  I 
don't  mind  anything  as  long  as  we  are  together.  But 
why  are  you  going  to  do  it,  tell  me,  John. ' ' 

' '  I  am  getting  old, ' '  he  replied  slowly ;  ' '  official  life 
is  too  much  for  me.  Since  Leigh  disappeared  I  trust 
nobody,  believe  in  nobody,  confide  in  nobody — except 
you,  dear,  always  excepting  you." 

"John,"  she  said,  resuming  her  position  within  his 
arms,  "  it's  strange  about  Mr.  Leigh,  isn't  it?" 

' '  Very  strange,  Estelle. ' ' 

"  Do  you  believe  him  guilty?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  returned,  "  I  don't  know,  dear. 
I  hope,  if  he  is  guilty,  he  may  never  be  found.  I  would 
rather  think  of  him  with  the  benefit  of  a  doubt  than 
with  the  certainty  of  conviction." 


228  THE    WIFE    OF 

"Why,  John?" 

"  He  was  such  a  fine  young  fellow — so  clean-cut  and 
straightforward.  I  could  not  help  being  much  inter- 
ested in  him,  and  if  anyone  I  have  loved  and  trusted 
deceives  me,  for  any  reason,  I  think,  dear,  I  had  rather 
not  know  it.  I  am  not  so  strong  as  I  once  was,  and  it 
is  that  sort  of  thing  which  takes  the  life  out  of  a 
man." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  yes." 

"  With  all  the  circumstantial  evidence  against  young 
Leigh  my  better  judgment  tells  me  he  is  not  guilty,  but 
a  victim  to  something  that  will  yet  be  explained,  but  as 
I  said,"  he  continued,  drawing  her  closer,  "I'm  not  so 
young  nor  so  strong  as  I  once  was.  Things  worry  me. 
I  don't  suppose  I  am  as  capable  of  handling  vexatious 
problems  as  I  used  to  be,  and  so,  dear,  I'm  going  to 
resign. ' ' 

"  They  won't  let  you,"  she  said,  speaking  with  con- 
viction, "  the  President  would  never  accept  your  resig- 
nation. ' ' 

"  On  the  contrary,  Estelle,  he  would  be  very  willing. 
Our  relations  are  not  cordial.  This  morning  at  the 
White  House  before  the  diplomatic  reception  we  had  a 
most  unpleasant  interview.  Don't  ask  me  to  tell  you 
about  it;  I  had  thought  him  my  staunch  friend  until 
lately,  and  therein  lies  the  sting." 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I  hate  him!— I  hate  him!" 

"  Hush,  dear.  Perhaps  he  is  right.  He  is  troubled 
as  well  as  I,  for  this  Roostchook  matter  is  of  vital  im- 
portance. The  loss  of  the  papers  just  now  affects  the 
integrity  of  the  Government — his  honor,  and  most  of  all 
mine,  Estelle,  for  they  were  in  my  hands  for  safekeep- 
ing." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          229 

"And  all  this,"  she  said  bitterly,  "  comes  of  a  paper 
— a  miserable  paper  which  may  be  found  at  any  time." 

"Ah,"  he  replied,  "  I  would  take  a  new  lease  on  life, 
little  girl,  if  I  could  have  it  in  my  hands  together  with 
the  synopsis  the  President  gave  me  of  his  policy — you 
remember  I  told  you  about  it  and  how  it  disappeared 
also?" 

She  remembered  very  well. 

"  But,  John,"  she  said  timidly,  "  I  can't  see  what 
great  harm  is  done  if  it  has  been  stolen.  Isn't  it  just  a 
tempest  in  a  teapot  which  will  blow  over  shortly?  It 
seems  to  me  there  is  a  tremendous  excitement  about  a 
very  little  matter,  after  all." 

"  Estelle,"  he  said,  turning  back  the  lace  of  her  loose 
sleeve  and  watching  the  play  of  the  firelight  upon  her 
arm,  "  do  you  understand  what  war  means?" 

"  I— think  so,  John." 

'  Well,  if  the  stolen  papers  should  be  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Russian  Government,  in  six  months  or  less 
this  country  would  be  involved  in  a  war  which  might 
become  international.  There  would  be  fatherless  chil- 
dren and  widows,  sacrifice  of  human  life,  and  unutter- 
able horrors  you  could  not  even  imagine.  Now  do  you 
understand  the  President's  attitude?" 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  continued  quietly. 

The  country  needs  a  more  vigorous  man  to  bring  it 
safely  through  this  crisis.  I  have  been  put  in  a  position 
of  great  trust,  weighed,  and  found  wanting.  So,  dear- 
est, I  am  going  to  resign,  and  Rivers  will  be  made 
Secretary  of  State." 

"Ah!"  the  exclamation  was  expressive,  and  the  Sec- 
retary smiled  sadly. 

"You  don't  like  him,"  he  said;    "you  would  not 


230  THE    WIFE    OF 

want  to  see  him  in  my  place,  filling  it  more  efficiently 
than  I  have  done,  is  that  it,  dear?  Well,  we  won't  stay 
here.  I  think  I  would  not  enjoy  it  myself.  We'll  go 
abroad,  you  and  I ;  after  all,  we  have  each  other.  I  will 
not  be  sorry  to  have  done  with  public  life.  I  don't  like 
leaving  under  a  cloud,  that's  all." 

"  But,  John— 

"  Will  you  play  me  something,  Estelle?  We  won't 
talk  any  more  just  now.  Very  soon  I  must  dress  and 
go  out.  I  wish  I  had  not  told  Byrd  I  would  come.  I 
have  a  fancy  for  a  little  music,  and  there  is  none  so  sweet 
as  yours,  so  if  you  don't  mind — 

She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  laid  her  cheek 
to  his. 

"John,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  you  will  never,  never 
know  how  much  I  love  you." 

And  the  Secretary  held  her  close,  oblivious  to  every- 
thing except  the  present  moment. 

"  Now,"  she  continued,  raising  a  flushed  face  and 
speaking  quietly,  "  put  your  head  on  this  pillow — so. 
That  poor  head  which  aches  from  so  much  thinking. 
Perhaps  things  will  come  out  right  after  all,  dear.  I 
will  play  very  softly  and  you  shall  go  to  sleep.  I'll 
wake  you  in  time  to  dress.  Is  dinner  at  eight  ? ' ' 

"  Play  the  old  Scotch  airs,  Estelle,"  he  said  as  she 
opened  the  piano,  "  I  like  them  best." 

So  Mrs.  Redmond  played  the  old  Scotch  airs,  and  the 
Secretary  listened  dreamily.  Softer  and  softer  grew  the 
music  until  at  last  it  ceased  entirely;  the  fire  snapped 
and  sparkled  appreciatively,  but  the  Secretary  was 
asleep. 

His  wife  crossed  the  room  and  sank  upon  her  knees 
beside  the  couch,  her  head  upon  the  pillow  close  to 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          231 

his.  Mechanically  she  repeated  his  words  in  reference 
to  David  Leigh, — 

' '  If  one  I  loved  has  deceived  me,  I  would  rather  never 
know  it." 

How  worn  he  looked.  His  hand,  lying  half  open  upon 
his  knee,  was  almost  transparent  in  the  fitful  light  of 
the  fire,  and  now  and  then  the  fingers  twitched  ner- 
vously. 

The  half  hour  struck.  At  seven  she  must  wake  him; 
at  eight  he  would  be  gone,  taking  with  him  all  her  sense 
of  strength  and  security.  At  nine  she  must  dress.  At 
ten — how  the  time  flew. 

The  Secretary  stirred  in  his  sleep ;  she  rose  and,  lean- 
ing over  the  couch,  smoothed  his  hair  caressingly, 
adroitly  moving  the  pillow  into  a  more  comfortable 
position  and  touching  his  forehead  gently  with  her  lips. 

' '  Judas, ' '  she  murmured  as  she  returned  to  the  piano. 

But  the  fingers  which  pressed  the"  keys  trembled  and 
produced  discord,  for  the  little  devils  which  lurk  in 
the  background  of  life  had  leaped  upon  Mrs.  Redmond, 
and  she  winced  before  the  attack;  they  are  named 
Regret  and  Remorse;  their  arrows  are  poisoned  and 
their  swords  two-edged.  They  are  very  busy  little  devils 
too,  for  they  neglect  nobody,  and  consequently  pay  a 
great  many  visits  during  the  day  and  night. 


232  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXIV 


COUNT  VALDMIR  adjusted  the  gold  link  which  held  his 
cuff  and  surveyed  the  effect  of  his  immaculate  evening 
costume  critically.  From  head  to  foot  it  was  beyond 
reproach.  His  valet  gathered  up  the  debris  of  rejected 
ties  and  unsatisfactory  shirts  and  remarked  tenta- 
tively : 

"  The  old  gentleman,  sir?  He  has  waited  a  long 
time." 

' '  You  may  bring  him  in. ' ' 

Colonel  St.  John  had  waited  patiently  in  the  small 
reception-room  for  an  hour  or  more.  The  air  of  de- 
bonair assurance  he  had  worn  so  jauntily  that  morning 
had  quite  departed,  leaving  in  its  stead  a  nervous  de- 
pression and  his  customary  manner  of  furtive  obse- 
quiousness. 

So  he  returned  Count  Valdmir's  greeting  depre- 
catingly  and  at  once  announced  his  errand. 

"  I  have  brought  the  papers,"  he  said,  producing  a 
package  from  his  coat  pocket. 

"Ah,"  said  the  Russian,  "  that  is  well." 

He  held  them  reflectively,  studying  the  outer  wrapper 
carefully. 

"  Roostchook.  Confidential,"  he  read  slowly.  "  This 
looks  promising,  Colonel.  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

Colonel  St.  John  hesitated. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  Count.     As  I  said  this  morning, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          233 

I  need  your  assistance.  My  position  is  most  embar- 
rassing. ' ' 

' '  I  have  not  time  to  hear  you  now, ' '  said  Count  Vald- 
mir  impatiently,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  nor  to  ex- 
amine the  papers.  I  have  an  important  engagement  at 
ten.  After  all,  it  does  not  matter  where  they  came  from 
nor  how  you  procured  them,  provided  they  are  genuine. 
If  not,  Colonel — well,  we  won't  discuss  the  result." 

Putting  the  package  in  his  desk,  he  turned  the  key 
carefully. 

"  I  am  going  out,"  he  remarked  suggestively,  pro- 
ducing a  fur-lined  overcoat.  "  I  think,  Colonel,  you 
will  soon  be  at  liberty  to  leave  America.  Our  work  is 
almost  completed.  Next  week,  at  the  latest,  I  hope  to 
send  in  my  report  to  my  Government.  You  will  receive 
an  adequate  reward,  although  not  perhaps  as  large  as 
you  secured  from  the  Hertford  case." 

The  old  man  winced  perceptibly. 

"  Count,"  he  said  hurriedly,  "  I  am  watched.  I 
feel  it." 

"Ah,"  replied  the  Russian  indifferently,  "  doubtless. 
You  have  become  quite  a  public  character,  Colonel,  and 
must  expect  these  annoyances.  I  have  myself  to-day 
employed  an  agent  whom  I  can  trust  to  shadow  you  and 
prevent  you  from  again  committing  the  indiscretion  of 
this  morning.  No  doubt  it  was  he  who  followed  you 
to-night." 

There  was  malignant  hatred  in  the  glance  Colonel  St. 
John  shot  from  beneath  his  lowered  eyelids  at  his  com- 
panion, and  his  hand  clinched  angrily. 

"  Come,"  said  Valdmir  authoritatively,  "  I  am  going 
out  and  have  no  idea  of  leaving  you  alone  in  my  apart- 
ments. Go  home." 


234  THE    WIFE    OF 

He  spoke  very  much  as  though  his  dog  had  followed 
him  against  his  will. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man  dejectedly,  "I'm  going, 
Count." 

The  figure  which  crept  down  the  stairs  was  stooped 
and  feeble  and  did  not  suggest  the  erect,  well-clad  form 
which  had  surprised  Mr.  Rivers  earlier  in  the  day  by 
emerging  from  the  Octagon  House.  Colonel  St.  John 
had  aged  perceptibly  in  a  few  hours,  and  as  he  retraced 
his  steps  he  glanced  from  side  to  side  in  evident  appre- 
hension. 

11  When  he  opens  them,"  he  muttered,  "  my  God! 
when  he  opens  them ! ' ' 

Count  Valdmir,  having  disposed  of  his  guest,  walked 
rapidly  along,  enjoying  the  keen  air  of  the  winter's 
night.  Overhead  were  myriads  of  stars,  and  underfoot 
the  pavements  glistened  with  a  powdering  of  snow.  It 
had  sleeted  in  the  afternoon  and  the  parks  through  wThich 
he  passed  were  transformed  into  fairyland,  where  every 
leaf  and  twig  was  outlined  in  a  transparent  covering 
which  glittered  and  shone  beneath  the  electric  lights. 

Count  Valdmir 's  pulses  throbbed  unaccountably  as  he 
walked,  and  his  mind  was  not  occupied  with  the  inter- 
view just  ended  with  Colonel  St.  John;  instead  he 
thought  exultantly  of  the  interview  yet  to  come  with 
Colonel  St.  John 's  daughter,  and  quickened  his  pace  that 
he  might  be  punctual. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Redmond  in  her  dressing-room 
turned  slowly  from  her  mirror. 

"  That  will  do,  Josephine,"  she  said  reluctantly  . 

Josephine  breathed  a  relieved  sigh  and  stepped  back 
to  admire  her  work.  Never  in  all  her  experience  had  she 
found  her  mistress  so  difficult  to  please.  One  gown 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         235 

after  another  had  been  tried  and  rejected,  and  her  best 
efforts  as  to  coiffure  had  failed  to  prove  satisfactory. 
Josephine  had  not  suggested  rouge  to-night,  for  Mrs. 
Redmond's  cheeks  alternately  glowed  and  paled  after 
the  manner  of  the  opals  in  her  jewel-case  and  her  eyes 
shone  brilliantly  beneath  her  black  brows. 

Josephine  straightened  a  fold  of  the  lace  which  veiled 
the  pale  pink  underskirt  and  looked  critically  at  the 
result.  The  gown  was  long  and  clinging  in  effect;  a 
demi-toilet  of  lace  and  soft  silk ;  the  sleeves,  open  to  the 
shoulder,  fell  away  from  the  arms  in  a  misty  cloud  of 
lace,  and  the  white  breast  and  throat  were  framed  in 
the  same  filmy  material.  The  French  maid  clasped  her 
hands  ecstatically. 

11  Madame  is  ravishing,"  she  exclaimed;  "  now,  if 
she  would  but  consent  to  the  opal  about  her  neck  it 
would  be  complete.  The  one  stone,  Madame?  It  is 
necessary. ' ' 

And  the  opal  upon  its  glittering  string  of  diamonds 
added  an  effective  finishing-touch. 

"  Now,"  remarked  Josephine  triumphantly,  "  Ma- 
dame is  indeed  irresistible." 

'  I  hope  so,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Mrs.  Redmond  invol- 
untarily as  she  passed  into  her  sitting-room  with  its 
rose-shaded  lights  and  glowing  fire. 

It  seemed  to  Count  Valdmir,  when  he  entered  a  few 
moments  later,  that  the  room  was  an  appropriate  setting 
for  the  woman  who  stood  at  the  window  looking  out  into 
the  street,  one  arm  holding  back  the  heavy  curtain  and 
showing  round  and  white  against  the  dark  velvet. 

"Ah,"  she  exclaimed  softly,  turning  from  the  window, 
' '  you  have  come.  I  was  watching  for  you. ' ' 

"  I   am  not  late,"  he  said,  takinsr  her  outstretched 


236  THE    WIFE    OF 

hand.  "  I  lingered  on  the  doorstep  until  my  watch 
crawled  round  to  ten.  How  slowly  it  moved!  But  it 
was  the  appointed  hour,  so  I  waited  for  it. ' ' 

"And  I,"  she  said,  "  waited  also." 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  are  you  glad  to  see 
me?  Am  I,  for  once,  welcome?  Let  me  look  into  your 
eyes  and  read  my  answer  there.  They  are  such  truthful 
eyes — I  doubt  if  they  could  lie." 

But  as  he  bent  over  her  the  dark  lashes  were  lowered 
instinctively. 

' '  I  wanted  you  to  come, ' '  she  whispered,  ' '  I — wanted 
you." 

11  Little  hands,"  he  said,  drawing  her  towards  him, 
"  little  hands!  See  how  easily  I  hold  them  both  in 
one  of  mine." 

' '  Come, ' '  she  said,  gently  withdrawing  them,  ' '  let  us 
be  comfortable.  Talk  to  me,  say  pleasant  things.  I  want 
to  be  diverted  to-night." 

She  seated  herself  beside  the  fire  and  the  Eussian 
leaned  over  the  back  of  her  chair,  his  eyes  alight  with 
that  other  fire  which  of  late  had  often  smouldered  there. 

' '  So  you  were  watching  for  me, ' '  he  said — ' '  for  me. ' ' 

"  I  have  watched  for  you  before,  Count — often." 

"  To-night,"  he  continued,  his  breath  stirring  the 
hair  about  her  ears,  "  to-night,  this  one  hour,  is  mine. 
You  are  not  Mrs.  Redmond,  you  are  not  Estelle  St.  John, 
you  are  the  Countess  Valdmir." 

' '  The  Countess  Valdmir, ' '  she  repeated ;  ' '  and  do  you 
love  her — your  Countess?  Is  she  more  to  you  than 
anything  in  life?" 

"  In  life  or  death,  Estelle.  Ah,  you  frown.  May  I 
not  call  my  Countess  by  her  name?" 

"  By  any  name  to-night." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          237 

"  I  have  waited,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  I  have  been 
patient,  and  at  last  I  have  my  reward.  See,  your  color 
varies.  It  is  your  heart,  and  to-night  it  throbs  for  me. ' ' 

"  For  you,"  she  said,  "  for  you — to-night." 

"  In  Russia,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  estates  where  I 
am  unquestioned  master,  but  the  castles  beyond  the 
steppes  have  no  mistress  and  I  have  no  home.  Very 
soon  I  shall  be  recalled,  for  my  mission  is  drawing  to  a 
close. ' ' 

He  paused  and  knelt  upon  the  tiger-skin  rug  beside 
her. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  return  alone,"  he  said  slowly. 

A  hot,  red  flush  stained  her  face  and  breast,  faded 
and  left  her  white  and  trembling. 

"  Hush!"  she  exclaimed,  "  hush!" 

' '  I  want  you, ' '  he  resumed.  ' '  More  than  anything  in 
heaven  or  earth,  I  want  you." 

"  More  than  fame?"  she  interrupted.  "  More  than 
official  honor?  More  than  the  glory  of  court  life — the 
friendship  of  the  Czar?" 

"  More  than  life  itself,"  he  replied  quickly,  "  and  I 
mean  to  have  you,  Star  of  the  World. ' ' 

;'  Don't,"  she  said,  her  brow  contracting,  "  don't." 
'  The  old  name  is  painful,  then?  Listen,  Estelle,  I 
can  make  you  happy?  From  me  you  have  nothing  to 
conceal ;  no  secret  to  eat  away  your  heart ;  no  spectre 
of  the  past  to  shadow  you.  Together  we  would  bury  it ; 
together  begin  a  new  life " 

"  You  are  strong,"  she  interrupted,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  little  French  clock  on  the  mantel,  "  and  we  are  weak 
sometimes,  we  women.  We  need  support." 

"And  I  can  love,"  he  said  impetuously,  "  ah,  what 
would  I  not  do  for  the  woman  who  returned  that  love  ? ' ' 


238  THE    WIFE    OF 

The  fire  blazed  up  brightly  and  the  little  clock  ticked 
hurriedly,  as  though,  indeed,  it  were  working  against 
time. 

"  What  would  you  do  for  her?"  she  whispered,  lean- 
ing towards  him,  "  tell  me,  what  would  you  do  if  she 
loved  you  ?  If  she  went  back  to  Russia  with  you,  to  the 
castles  beyond  the  steppes?" 

"  Home,"  he  said  softly,  "  home,  Estelle." 

"  What  would  you  do  for  her?"  she  persisted. 
"  Would  you  give  up  for  her  sake  all  that  you  have 
been  at  so  much  trouble  to  procure  ?  Would  you  return 
to  Russia  an  acknowledged  failure?  A  test,  Count,  a 
test.  Would  your  love  survive  it  ?  " 

Count  Valdmir  sprang  to  his  feet  and  walked  hur- 
riedly up  and  down  the  room;  Mrs.  Redmond  rose  also 
and  stood  watching  him,  her  figure  tense  and  rigid  and 
her  fingers  tightly  interlaced. 

' '  The  price  is  high, ' '  he  said,  pausing  before  her, 
"  very  high." 

She  straightened  herself  suddenly  and  moved  a  step 
or  two  towards  him.  The  loose  lace  sleeves  fell  away 
from  the  white  arms  and  the  small  head  with  its  weight 
of  dark  hair  was  held  proudly  erect,  as  though  conscious 
of  its  value. 

"  The  price  is  high,"  he  repeated,  his  eyes  upon  the 
figure  before  him. 

"  Well,"  she  said  haughtily,  "  what  of  that?  Am  I 
not  worth  it?" 

The  diamonds  about  her  throat  shot  forth  a  hundred 
rays  and  the  opal  pendant  gleamed  scarlet  as  it  caught 
the  light. 

"  Worth  it?"  he  cried  passionately.  "  Ay,  that  and 
more — much  more." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          239 

And  the  little  clock  upon  the  mantel  struck  eleven 
sharply,  as  though  glad  to  have  it  over  with. 

' '  The  time  is  up, ' '  she  said ;  ' '  your  hour,  Count,  has 
ended." 

"  But  my  life  has  just  begun,"  he  answered;  "  there 
are  details  to  arrange — much  to  discuss.  When  may  I 
see  you  again  ?  Estelle,  I  want  to  say  good-night. ' ' 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  drew  her  gently 
towards  him. 

' '  Your  lips, ' '  he  said,  ' '  are  mine. ' ' 

With  a  swift,  unexpected  movement  she  slipped  away 
from  him. 

"  You  are  too  late,  Count,  too  late.  Your  hour  has 
passed  and  you  must  go.  Another  time — 

Count  Valdmir's  face  darkened  and  his  brows  con- 
tracted. 

"  It  is  my  right,"  he  said. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  replied  breathlessly,  "  your  privilege, 
perhaps,  if  I  chose  to  grant  it,  but  not  yet  your  right, 
Count  Valdmir." 

He  turned  towards  the  door,  white  and  angry. 
'  I  shall  not  ask  the  privilege  again,"  he  said  shortly, 
"  it  waits  you  at  my  rooms.    I  also  have  my  price.    I  do 
not  desire  to  give  all  and  receive  nothing."  , 

"Ah,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand  appealingly, 
1 '  do  not  go  away  angry.  If  I  have  hurt  you,  I  am  sorry. 
I  will  see  you  again,  but  now  the  time  passes  quickly. 
It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  stay.  I  will  let  you  know  when 
next  you  may  come  and  we  will  talk  over  our  plans  and 
my — request.  It  is  the  only  stipulation  I  shall  make." 

Count  Valdmir's  eyes  narrowed  as  he  grasped  her 
hand  almost  roughly. 

"  If  you  want  me,"  he  said  brusquely,  "  you  must 


240  THE    WIFE    OF 

come  to  me — do  you  understand?  I  also  can  stipulate. 
I  am  not  a  safe  plaything  for  a  woman  unless  she  proves 
herself  sincere." 

"And  if  she  proves  it,  Count,  to  your  satisfaction?  If 
she  puts  aside  the  convenances  and  comes  at  your  bid- 
ding,— comes  to  you  gladly,  as  her  privilege  and  your 
right, — what  then?" 

"  Then,"  he  said  softly,  "  ah,  then,  Estelle,  she  has 
but  to  request.  There  is  nothing  I  will  not  do. ' ' 

The  blazing  log  smouldered  and  fell  apart,  sending  a 
shower  of  sparks  upward  to  mark  its  dissolution. 

"  You  will  tell  me,"  he  said,  bending  towards  her, 
"  when  I  may  expect 

"  The  Countess  Valdmir,"  she  finished  softly. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          241 


XXV 


THE  row  of  carriages  lined  up  against  the  curbstone 
indicated  to  the  world  at  large  that  it  was  Friday  after- 
noon and  Mrs.  Chesley  was,  according  to  custom,  "  at 
home."  There  had  been  many  visitors,  chiefly  femi- 
nine, and  much  conversation  of  a  spasmodic  and  desul- 
tory nature  had  been  conducted  over  the  teacups  and 
beneath  waving  plumes.  The  Senator  was  wont  to  say 
(with  an  apology  for  the  pun)  that  the  sounds  which 
emanated  from  the  crowded  rooms  during  these  recep- 
tions rendered  the  Byrd  house  on  K  Street  not  unlike 
the  bird-house  at  the  Zoo,  a  remark  his  sister  received 
with  the  silent  contempt  it  deserved. 

Isabel,  presiding  at  the  tea-table,  distinctly  sulked. 
The  same  people,  she  reflected  morosely,  had  visited  them 
almost  every  Friday  that  winter  and  said  the  same 
things ;  also  on  the  other  five  days  of  the  week  she  was 
apt  to  encounter  them  elsewhere  and  exchange  similar 
remarks.  And  she  actually  remembered  having  enjoyed 
it  and  entered  keenly  into  the  whirl  of  engagements 
which  always  presented  themselves  during  the  season, 
and  which  seemed  so  tiresome  to-day.  She  wondered 
if  she  could  be  growing  old;  had  she  not  that  morning 
discovered  one  gray  hair  1 — a  discovery  bringing  as  much 
depression  in  its  wake  as  though  she  had  found  it  neces- 
sary to  assume  a  wig.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  not 
yet  quite  recovered  her  poise  since  her  outburst  a  few 

16 


242  THE    WIFE    OF 

evenings  previous  and  was  inclined  to  consider  the  world 
flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable,  and  herself  a  much  injured 
damsel  for  having  to  reside  therein. 

She  therefore  returned  Monsieur  du  Pre's  civilities  so 
abstractedly  that  the  little  Frenchman  mentally  deplored 
the  absence  of  aplomb  in  the  American  girl  and  sought 
relief  elsewhere.  Isabel  enjoyed  one  portion  of  the 
afternoon  only,  and  this  was  when  Mr.  Rivers  hovered 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  waiting  an  opportunity 
to  approach.  At  this  time  she  was  apparently  absorbed 
in  her  duties  with  the  teacups  and  handed  Lyndhurst 
the  sugar  with  a  glance  and  smile  which  caused  that 
young  Attache  to  believe  himself  supplied  with  nectar. 

The  Member  of  Congress  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
walked  away.  He  was  quite  conscious  that  the  dimples 
brought  to  bear  on  Lyndhurst  were  displayed  for  his 
especial  benefit,  and  determined  to  surprise  her  by 
making  no  further  effort  to  secure  a  word  for  himself. 
And  Miss  Byrd  was  surprised  and  somewhat  chagrined ; 
she  had  expected  a  different  result  when  she  saw  him 
enter,  and  had  anticipated  bestowing  upon  her  recreant 
lover  the  slight  nod  and  frosty  smile  which  would  convey 
to  him  the  fact  that  he  was  still  unforgiven. 

Rivers  took  his  departure  as  soon  as  possible,  blandly 
smiling  without  and  hotly  raging  within.  He  had  not 
enjoyed  recently  receiving  a  package  containing  the 
gifts  he  had  bestowed  upon  his  fiancee;  nor  had  he 
relished  the  curt  "  Not  at  home"  which  had  baffled  his 
attempt  to  see  her,  and  the  return  of  his  letter  un- 
opened. These  were  slights  which  the  popular  and  rising 
young  politician  felt  to  be  undeserved,  he  therefore  de- 
termined that  the  next  advance  should  come  from  Isa- 
bel, and  he  would  graciously  respond.  He  entertained 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          243 

no  real  doubt  that  sooner  or  later  she  would  make  this 
advance.  Was  he  not  the  most  desirable  parti  in  Wash- 
ington? Meanwhile,  the  girl  deserved  a  lesson,  and  he 
resolved  upon  a  wholesome  course  of  indifference  and 
neglect,  which,  experience  had  taught  him,  was  often 
efficacious  in  such  cases. 

So  the  desirable  parti  betook  himself  to  the  Metro- 
politan Club  and  sat  down  ostensibly  to  read  the  even- 
ing paper,  but  in  reality  to  reflect.  He  was  about  to 
make  a  move  in  the  game  of  politics  which  demanded 
delicacy  of  touch  and  careful  manipulation,  and  which 
would,  he  believed,  give  him  command  of  the  situation; 
it  therefore  required  thoughtful  attention.  There  was 
another  matter,  however,  of  less  importance  which  in- 
terfered with  its  calm  consideration  by  continually  rising 
uppermost  in  his  mind  and  in  refusing  to  be  ignored. 

By  some  unfortunate  chance  he  had  lost  the  ring  Isa- 
bel had  so  contemptuously  returned  him  and  which  he 
had  carried  afterwards  in  his  waistcoat  pocket.  Of 
course,  it  could  be  duplicated,  although  the  stone  was 
of  great  value.  It  was  not  the  necessity  of  buying  an- 
other which  disturbed  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers,  for  he 
was  generously  disposed ;  it  was  the  fact  that  the  miss- 
ing ring  was  marked  with  their  joint  initials  and  a 
date.  Also,  he  had  good  reason  to  believe  it  had  dropped 
from  his  pocket  during  his  New  Year's  visit  to  the  Oc- 
tagon House,  and  was  apprehensive  lest  it  be  found 
there  and  advertised  in  the  daily  papers,  with  full 
accompanying  description  for  Isabel  or  her  father  to 
read  and  recognize.  It  was  all  most  annoying,  but  he 
believed  the  best  solution  was  to  immediately  order  a 
duplicate,  which  could  be  produced  by  him  if  neces- 
sary. 


244  THE    WIFE    OF 

Meanwhile,  Lyndhurst  had  also  brought  his  visit  to 
a  termination  and  walked  slowly  to  his  rooms  absorbed 
in  thought. 

He  had  in  his  pocket  the  report  of  the  Secret  Service 
man  he  had  employed  to  trace  Colonel  St.  John,  and 
this  report  contained  singularly  disquieting  information. 
He  remembered  it  word  for  word. 

"  Colonel  St.  John,  alias  William  Lewis,  alias  Joseph  Sanders. 
Present  residence,  Washington.  Present  occupation,  viz.: 

"  As  Colonel  St.  John,  conducts  gambling-house  at  Jackson 
City. 

"  As  Joseph  Sanders,  employed  as  watchman  in  the  State 
Department. 

"  As  William  Lewis,  janitor  of  the  Octagon  House,  Eighteenth 
Street  and  New  York  Avenue. 

"  Sometimes  visited  at  latter  place  by  one  gentleman  after 
nightfall;  once  visited  by  a  lady.  Followed  on  New  Year's  Day 
to  the  reception  given  by  the  Secretary  of  State;  followed  the 
same  evening  to  the  apartments  of  Count  Alexis  Valdmir,  attache 
Russian  Legation." 

Thus  read  the  report,  and  he  repeated  it  as  he  walked 
along.  Well,  he  had  traced  his  man  at  last ;  he  had  but 
to  say  the  word  and  Colonel  St.  John's  days  of  liberty 
were  at  an  end.  Still,  he  hesitated  unaccountably. 
There  had  been  unexpected  developments  and  certain 
complications  had  arisen  unknown  to  the  Secret  Service, 
perhaps,  but  painfully  obtrusive  nevertheless. 

Again  and  again  Lyndhurst  put  two  and  two  together 
and  compared  the  result.  It  was  an  unpleasant  total, 
taking  it  all  in  all,  and  he  told  himself  disgustedly  that 
he'd  be  hanged  if  he  understood  it. 

How  did  Colonel  St.  John,  notorious  blackleg  that  he 
was,  secure  a  position  under  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment? 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          245 

"Why  should  he  present  himself  as  a  guest  at  the  home 
of  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  why  should  Mrs.  Red- 
mond appear  disconcerted  upon  perceiving  him  ? 

What  connection  had  he  with  Count  Valdmir? 

Colonel  St.  John,  of  Berlin,  was  well  known  to  pos- 
sess a  daughter.  Colonel  St.  John,  of  Washington,  was 
apparently  childless.  Where  was  his  daughter  ? 

At  this  point  Lyndhurst  abruptly  checked  his  train  of 
thought,  only  to  encounter  fresh  perplexities  and  a  new 
series  of  questions  admitting  of  no  satisfactory  reply. 

He  recalled  his  first  visit  to  the  Octagon  House  and 
the  bit  of  blue  gauze  he  had  found  there,  which  now 
reposed  in  his  card-case  and  seemed  to  him  strangely  like 
the  gown  Miss  Byrd  had  worn  the  evening  he  had  dis- 
covered the  wet  spot  on  her  skirt  and  been  informed  of 
her  engagement;  also  the  footprints  in  the  snow  in  the 
old  garden  when  he  had  reconnoitred  on  Christmas  Day. 
What  did  it  all  mean? 

A  sudden  recollection  of  the  Khedive's  opals  flashed 
before  him,  and  he  paused  hopelessly. 

"  It's  too  deep  for  me,"  he  ejaculated  aloud,  his  hands 
thrust  into  his  coat-pocket  and  his  hat  pulled  well  down 
over  his  eyes. 

Should  he  have  Colonel  St.  John  arrested  at  once,  or 
should  he  wait  for  an  answer  to  the  letter  he  had  sent 
to  Berlin  ?  He  thought  the  arrest  should  be  made  im- 
mediately and  the  matter  done  with. 

Suddenly  out  of  the  dusk  two  reproachful  blue  eyes 
assailed  him,  tearful,  appealing,  and  withal  a  little 
frightened.  Colonel  St.  John  was  reprieved  for  the  time 
being. 

Again  recalling  the  footprints,  Lyndhurst  instinc- 
tively turned  down  the  alley  leading  to  the  old  garden 


246  THE    WIFE    OF 

and  crossed  the  gap  in  the  wall.  The  snow  of  Christmas 
had  melted  and  been  replaced  by  a  slight  covering  to- 
day, so  the  garden  glistened  white  and  spotless  as  the 
Englishman  crossed  it  and  approached  the  house.  He 
scarcely  knew  why  he  went,  for  it  formed  no  part  of 
his  plan  to  encounter  his  foe  single-handed;  he  knew 
too  well  the  desperate  fight  of  cornered  beasts  to  at- 
tempt it. 

Far  up  in  the  top  of  the  old  house  a  ray  of  light 
shone  out  from  a  chink  in  the  broken  shutter.  So  the 
caretaker  was  at  home.  He  paused  and  looked  at  it 
long  and  earnestly. 

As  he  gazed  the  indecision  of  the  moment  vanished, 
leaving  in  its  place  a  grim  determination  and  a  burn- 
ing thirst  for  revenge.  Washington  faded,  and  in  its 
place  arose  Berlin  and  the  costly  establishment  of  the 
gambler.  He  saw  his  cousin's  frank,  boyish  face  and 
the  eagerness  with  which  he  had  entered  upon  his  first 
important  work;  he  saw  the  same  face  cold  in  death 
with  the  nasty  hole  in  the  temple,  and  heard  his  sister's 
voice  as  she  clung  to  him  with  trembling  lips  and  tear- 
dimmed  eyes. 

"  It  can't  be  true,  Cecil,  it  can't  be  true.  Bertie  could 
not  have  done  it." 

The  blue  eyes  appeared  again,  but  without  avail,  for 
Lyndhurst  remembered  the  misery  in  the  gray  eyes  at 
home  and  swore  softly  as  he  recalled  them. 

"As  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap,"  he  said  aloud  as  the 
desire  for  justice  overpowered  him.  He  would  quietly 
make  sure  Colonel  St.  John  was  at  home,  then  he  would 
himself  return  with  the  police.  The  affair  should  be 
settled  once  for  all;  he  would  not  hesitate,  no  matter 
who  was  involved.  He  repeated  it  quite  fiercely  to  him- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          247 

self  as  he  opened  the  insecure  latch  of  the  old  back  door 
and  entered  the  hall,  dark  with  the  early  dusk  of  the 
winter's  day. 

11  No  matter  who  is  involved." 

The  Englishman  was  troubled  by  no  fears  of  the  su- 
pernatural as  he  swiftly  ascended  the  stairs  towards  that 
upper  light.  He  was  only  conscious  of  the  sportsman's 
desire  for  a  look  at  his  prey  safe  in  its  lair  before  taking 
the  decisive  step  of  its  capture,  so  he  walked  as  softly  as 
possible  and  reached  the  landing  unmolested. 

The  janitor's  door  was  slightly  ajar.  The  lock  had  be- 
come difficult  to  manage  since  Mr.  Rivers 's  visit.  Colonel 
St.  John  had  observed  it  apprehensively  that  very  even- 
ing, and  intended  to  provide  himself  with  a  bolt  as 
soon  as  possible.  To-night,  however,  the  door  swung 
partly  open  and  Lyndhurst  looked  expectantly  inside, 
but  the  room  was  empty,  the  dim  light  coming  from  an 
inner  door.  Colonel  St.  John  was  on  duty  to-night  as 
watchman  and  had  left  some  time  before,  but  Lyndhurst, 
ignorant  of  this  fact,  hesitated  on  the  landing,  unde- 
cided whether  to  retreat  or  advance,  being  alone  and 
unarmed. 

As  he  paused  uncertainly  a  sound  from  the  inner 
room  arrested  his  attention.  It  was  the  restless  move- 
ment of  an  uneasy  body,  and  he  involuntarily  stepped 
inside  the  door  as  a  voice,  thick  with  fever,  uttered  a 
familiar  name. 

"  Senator  Byrd,"  it  said,  as  though  reading  aloud, 
"  announces  the  engagement  of  his  daughter  Isabel  to 
the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers,  Member  of  Congress  from 
Virginia. ' ' 

A  moment 's  pause,  and  the  sentence  was  repeated  with 
parrot-like  accurateness. 


248  THE    WIFE    OF 

Lyndhursi  hesitated  no  longer,  but  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  Mr.  Rivers  and  advanced  to  the  inner  room. 

The  light  that  had  attracted  him  emanated  from  the 
kerosene  stove  which  stood  upon  the  floor  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  cot  and  fell  but  dimly  upon  the  mutter- 
ing figure.  The  Englishman,  however,  knelt  beside  it 
and  scrutinized  the  flushed  face  gravely. 

"  Leigh!"  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  "  David 
Leigh — the  private  secretary!" 

Leigh  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  fixed  his 
burning  eyes  upon  his  companion's  face. 

"  I  know  where  they  went,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "  the  Roostchook  papers,  but  I'll  never,  never 
tell!" 

"By  Jove!"  ejaculated  the  Englishman,  in  great 
perplexity,  ' '  by  Jove ! ' ' 

Glancing  helplessly  about  the  little  room,  his  eye  was 
attracted  by  a  brilliant  ray  of  light  from  a  crack  in  the 
board  beside  the  cot.  Instinctively  he  put  out  his  hand ; 
it  proved  to  be  a  ring.  Lyndhurst  carried  it  to  the  oil- 
stove  and  examined  it.  In  a  moment  Colonel  St.  John, 
David  Leigh,  and  the  object  of  his  visit  were  forgotten, 
for  he  recognized  the  slender  rim  of  gold  supporting  one 
large  diamond.  Had  he  not  regretfully  watched  it  flash 
on  a  certain  white  hand  only  recently  ?  It  did  not  need 
the  initials  inside,  "I.  H.  B.  from  C.  R.,"  and  the  date 
engraved  to  tell  him  where  it  belonged.  The  lights  from 
the  diamond  scorched  the  hand  which  held  it,  and  the 
young  Attache's  face  was  very  grave  as  he  placed  the 
ring  in  his  card-case  beside  the  bit  of  blue  gauze  and 
turned  again  to  the  figure  on  the  floor. 

How  did  he  get  there  ?  What  did  it  all  mean  1  Leigh 
was  very  ill  and  quite  delirious,  that  was  evident.  Lynd- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          249 

hurst  was,  of  course,  ignorant  of  his  mysterious  disap- 
pearance, as  well  as  of  the  loss  of  the  Roostchook  papers, 
but  as  he  looked  at  the  young  fellow,  restless  and  suf- 
fering, his  face  hardened  ominously. 

"  More  foul  play,"  he  said  aloud. 

' '  His  daughter  Isabel, ' '  repeated  Leigh  huskily,  ' '  his 
daughter  Isabel.  Don't  ask  me  about  the  Roostchook 
papers.  I  know — I  know." 

And  Lyndhurst,  with  the  sensation  of  an  unwitting 
eavesdropper,  hurriedly  retreated. 

He  felt  confident  there  was  black  dealing  somewhere, 
and  at  once  started  to  inform  the  police.  As  he  reached 
the  street  he  paused  again. 

"Justice,"  he  said  sternly,  "  justice,  whomever  it  may 
involve. ' ' 

And  the  rays  from  the  diamond  in  his  pocket  burned 
through  the  card-case  and  into  his  heart. 

Well,  it  would  all  be  over  soon.  Colonel  St.  John 
should  be  arrested  to-night,  Leigh  removed  to  a  hospital, 
and  his  friends  notified.  By  the  way,  who  were  his 
friends?  The  Englishman  did  not  know.  Whom,  then, 
should  he  inform? 

An  officer  approached  and  looked  curiously  at  him, 
but  Lyndhurst  hastened  on  as  though  he  himself  were 
within  reach  of  the  arm  of  the  law,  and  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  as  the  man  turned  the  corner  without  a  back- 
ward glance. 

Again  he  was  in  Berlin,  paying  such  of  Hertford's 
debts  as  money  could  obliterate  and  packing  his  effects 
to  ship  home,  along  with  his  body.  Lyndhurst  shud- 
dered :  it  had  been  a  bitter  period  of  his  existence.  He 
remembered  the  boy's  rooms,  the  furniture,  papers, 
pictures — the  sketch,  "  Star  of  the  World." 


250  THE    WIFE    OF 

It  hung  beside  the  chimney,  exactly  within  range  of 
the  eye  from  the  easy  chair  before  the  fire.  His  sister's 
picture  in  its  silver  frame  stood  upon  the  dressing-table, 
but  Evelyn's  pretty  face  seemed  strangely  insipid  when 
compared  with  the  witchery  of  the  head  among  the 
clouds.  The  easychair  was  worn  from  much  use;  it 
stood  uncompromisingly  with  its  face  to  the  chimney- 
piece  and  its  back  to  the  dressing-table ;  Lyndhurst,  sit- 
ting down  in  it,  raised  his  eyes  to  the  water-color  sketch, 
looked  a  long  time — and  angrily,  unwillingly,  under- 
stood. With  complete  comprehension  came  the  hot  de- 
sire for  revenge  and  the  resolution  to  spare  neither 
pains  nor  money  in  bringing  about  just  retribution. 

The  chase  had  been  long  and  wearisome.  Colonel  St. 
John  and  his  daughter  had  apparently  disappeared  from 
the  face  of  the  earth,  but  now  the  end  had  come,  sud- 
denly, unexpectedly,  with  an  overwhelming  crash  of 
events  and  a  full  realization  of  what  might  follow  in  its 
wake. 

Again  he  repeated  the  report  of  the  Secret  Service. 

"Followed  to  the  apartments  of  Count  Alexis  Vald- 
mir. ' ' 

Lyndhurst  endeavored  to  classify  his  evidence  and 
deduce  the  results  calmly  and  dispassionately. 

Valdmir,  sent  on  special  duty.  Cold,  relentless,  and 
indefatigable,  Russia's  best  resource  in  time  of  emer- 
gency. Valdmir  in  communication  with  Colonel  St. 
John;  Colonel  St.  John  employed  in  the  Department 
of  State.  David  Leigh,  the  Secretary's  secretary,  de- 
lirious in  the  Octagon  House,  raving  indiscriminately 
about  Isabel  Byrd  and  Roostchook.  On  the  floor  be- 
side him  a  ring. 

The  wheels  of  his  thinking  mechanism  seemed  to  pause 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          251 

with  a  sudden  snap,  then  slowly,  painfully,  revolve  once 
more. 

Valdmir  had  assisted  Colonel  St.  John  to  depart  from 
the  New  Year's  reception,  Mrs.  Redmond — 

The  British  Attache  felt  suddenly  giddy  and  removed 
his  hat  to  allow  the  cold  air  to  pass  across  his  brow. 
He  discovered  he  was  in  Farragut  Park  and  sank  ab- 
stractedly down  upon  one  of  the  benches. 

Not  far  distant  was  the  British  Embassy;  Lyndhurst 
recognized  its  proximity  and  recognized  also  his  official 
connection  with  it. 

It  was  no  part  of  England's  policy  that  Russia  should 
hold  the  controlling  card  regarding  the  vexed  question 
of  the  Roostchook  trouble.  Lyndhurst  had  that  morn- 
ing been  present  at  a  long  and  anxious  conference  on  the 
subject.  Was  it  not  his  plain  duty  to  go  at  once  and 
lay  his  lately  acquired  knowledge  and  suspicions  before 
his  chief,  to  act  upon  as  the  latter  thought  best?  First 
his  duty  to  his  country.  The  young  Englishman  had 
been  well-grounded  in  patriotism  and  taught  to  look 
facts  squarely  in  the  face.  It  was  now  a  matter  too 
serious  for  the  personal  equation  to  be  considered,  and 
must  go,  he  realized,  to  the  acting  head  of  his  Govern- 
ment for  such  use  as  he  might  see  fit. 

' '  "Whomever  it  may  involve, ' '  he  repeated  gloomily  as 
he  rose  and  walked  towards  the  Embassy. 

At  the  iron  fence  before  the  substantial  red-brick 
house  he  paused  again  and  gazed  fixedly  at  the  lion  and 
unicorn  surmounting  the  stone  porte-cochere.  But  in- 
stead of  the  emblem  of  his  nation,  Lyndhurst  saw  a 
girl's  head  with  its  background  of  filmy  clouds.  The 
eyes  sought  his,  changing  as  he  looked  from  blue  to 
purple,  and  in  them  shone  the  innocence  of  girlhood  as 


252  THE    WIFE    OF 

well  as  the  appeal  of  womanhood  to  man.  Lyndhurst 
convulsively  grasped  at  the  iron  railing. 

"  Drunk,"  said  a  passing  young  woman  disgustedly, 
drawing  back  her  skirts. 

Again  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stone-trimmed  porte- 
cochere.  The  lion  and  the  unicorn  now  stood  erect  and 
rampant  in  their  struggle  for  the  crown,  but  the  scion 
of  their  nation  turned  his  back  upon  them  and  walked 
briskly  towards  Farragut  Square  and  up  the  broad  stone 
steps  of  a  house  near  by.  Here  he  paused  and,  taking 
out  his  card,  wrote  a  few  words  upon  it,  unconscious  that 
a  carriage  had  stopped  before  the  door. 

' '  Will  you  give  this  card  to  Mrs.  Redmond  ?  "  he  said 
to  the  servant  who  responded  to  his  ring. 

The  man  stood  back  respectfully. 

' '  Mrs.  Redmond  is  just  returning,  sir, ' '  he  said. 

She  came  slowly  up  the  steps  towards  him  and  paused 
a  moment  in  surprised  recognition. 

"  I  am  just  back  from  a  round  of  visits,  with  barely 
time  to  dress  for  dinner,"  she  remarked  lightly. 

The  Englishman  bent  forward  and  said  a  few  words 
in  an  undertone. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  hastily, — "  yes,  cer- 
tainly, Mr.  Lyndhurst,  I  understand.  James,  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  disturbed. ' ' 

Lyndhurst  followed  her  into  the  brightly  lighted  hall, 
and  James  closed  the  heavy  door  with  unmistakable  deci- 
sion. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          253 


XXVI 

THE  Secretary  sat  alone  in  his  library  watching  the 
firelight  play  across  the  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

Into  every  life  come  moments  when  we  pause  and  re- 
view the  past.  We  trace,  step  by  step,  our  progress  up 
or  down,  as  the  case  may  be.  We  say  to  ourselves  de- 
jectedly, "  If  I  had  only  done  thus  or  so  it  might  have 
been  different,"  and  long  to  go  back  and  do  it  over 
again,  for  we  are  now  older,  wiser,  and  more  careful, 
if  less  confident  and  joyous. 

These  moments  are  no  respecters  of  persons;  they 
come  unsought  to  the  systematically  fortunate  as  well  as 
the  perpetually  unfortunate.  They  are  blessed  indeed 
who  have  eaten  the  apple  of  life  and  found  no  bitter 
taste  about  the  core. 

The  Secretary  moved  slightly,  and  the  paper  rustled 
in  his  fingers.  Instinctively  he  raised  it  and  read  it 
slowly,  with  the  careful  attention  one  should  accord  an 
autograph  letter  from  the  President.  It  was  a  cordial 
epistle,  expressing  great  personal  regard  and  much  ap- 
preciation of  his  services,  but  it  was  the  concluding  para- 
graph to  which  he  returned,  scanning  it  word  for  word, 
as  though  it  were  not  already  permanently  engraved  upon 
his  memory. 

"  It  has  been  with  sincere  regret  that  1  have  for  some  time 
observed  the  gradual  failing  of  your  health,  due  no  doubt  to  the 
heavy  responsibilities  you  have  been  called  upon  to  undergo.  It 
is  only  young  shoulders  that  can  stand  erect  beneath  the  official 


254  THE    WIFE    OF 

burden.  Of  late  this  has  caused  me  serious  apprehension,  so 
much  so  that  I  feel  it  incumbent  upon  me  to  write  and  remon- 
strate against  this  needless  sacrifice  on  your  part.  You  have 
surely  earned  a  long  rest.  Why  not  take  it0" 

' '  Why  not  take  it  ? "  repeated  the  Secretary  gravely. 

Well,  he  was  tired,  that  was  true  enough.  He  had 
served  his  country  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  guided 
the  ship  of  state  safely,  so  far,  through  some  rather  deep 
and  turbulent  waters.  Was  his  grasp  upon  the  helm 
becoming  insecure? 

He  remembered  the  trouble  in  Ecuador,  the  crisis  in 
Brazil.  Now  it  was  Eoostchook.  He  also  recalled  the 
hesitation  with  which  he  had  accepted  the  Portfolio  of 
State  and  the  insistence  of  the  President. 

"  I  must  have  at  the  head  of  the  Cabinet,"  he  had 
said,  "  a  man  of  ability,  in  sympathy  with  the  Admin- 
istration. For  my  own  pleasure  I  want  him  to  be  con- 
genial and  well  known  to  me.  For  the  sake  of  our  old 
friendship,  as  well  as  for  political  reasons,  I  beg  you  not 
to  refuse  to  accept  the  billet." 

The  Secretary's  chin  dropped  forward  on  his  breast, 
his  hand  clinched,  crushing  into  a  tight  ball  the  sheet 
of  white  paper  with  its  blue  heading  of  "  Executive 
Mansion  "  as  he  sat  motionless  while  the  moments  passed 
unnoticed.  Finally  he  rose  and  went  to  his  desk. 

"  I  should  have  done  it  myself,"  he  murmured  as 
he  took  up  a  pen;  "  he  might  have  waited  a  little 
longer. ' ' 

The  Secretary  was  indeed  tasting  the  bitterness  of  the 
apple. 

Meanwhile  a  subdued  bustle  had  arisen  in  the  hall 
without,  accompanied  by  a  ringing  of  bells  and  a  gen- 
eral air  of  suppressed  excitement.  Mrs.  Redmond  issued 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          255 

hurried  but  emphatic  directions  which  the  servants  has- 
tened to  obey,  wondering  greatly,  while  Lyndhurst  stood, 
hat  in  hand,  in  the  drawing-room  waiting  to  depart. 

"  Would  not  a  hospital  be  better?"  he  suggested  as 
Mrs.  Redmond  turned  from  an  interview  with  the  house- 
keeper. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said  positively,  "  he  must  be  brought 
here  at  once.  Mr.  Redmond  would  wish  it,  I  am  sure. 
"We  are  indebted  to  you,  Mr.  Lyndhurst,  for  letting  us 
know  so  promptly.  Mr.  Leigh's  unexplained  absence 
from  the  Department  has  caused  my  husband  great 
anxiety. ' ' 

Lyndhurst  hesitated  perceptibly;  he  had  more  to  say 
and  scarcely  knew  how  to  say  it. 

' '  I  ought  to  tell  you, ' '  he  began,  ' '  why  I  was  looking 
around  the  Octagon  House  to-night." 

"  No,"  she  replied  quickly,  "  don't.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary— and  I  do  not  wish  to  know." 

"  Mrs.  Redmond,"  said  the  young  Attache  suddenly, 
"  I — well,  there  is  something  else.  You  are  Miss  Byrd's 
friend,  are  you  not — her  closest  friend?" 

"  Her  friendship  is  one  of  my  pleasures,  Mr.  Lynd- 
hurst." 

He  produced  his  card-case  and  opened  it. 

"  On  the  floor,"  he  said  reluctantly,  "  beside  Leigh, 
I  found  this." 

Mrs.  Redmond  uttered  a  surprised  exclamation  and 
held  out  her  hand  for  the  ring. 

"  You  think,"  he  said  anxiously,  "  that  it  is  surely 
hers  ?  There  might  be  some  mistake,  some  strange  coin- 
cidence. Such  things  do  happen." 

But  Mrs.  Redmond  shook  her  head  gravely. 

"  There  is  no  mistake,  I  am  too  familiar  with  it.    See, 


256  THE    WIFE    OF 

the  claw  of  the  setting  is  bent  slightly.  Isabel's  ring — 
how  very  strange ! ' ' 

"  I  thought,"  he  said,  his  eyes  upon  his  hat,  "  that 
perhaps,  as  you  are  her  friend,  you  might  return  it  with- 
out telling  her  who  found  it.  No  doubt  she  is  anxious 
over  its  loss." 

Mrs.  Redmond  was  turning  the  ring  over  in  her  hand 
with  a  puzzled  expression,  and  made  no  reply.  She  had 
that  afternoon  stopped  at  Senator  Byrd's  and  received 
a  hurried  confidence  from  Isabel  over  which  she  had 
rejoiced  openly. 

11  The  carriage  is  ready,"  announced  James  at  the 
door,  and  she  roused  herself  abruptly. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  trouble  yourself  about  this," 
she  said  gratefully.  "  I  had  them  telephone  for  every- 
thing necessary.  The  doctor  and  nurse  will  meet  you 
here  and  everything  will  be  ready.  As  to  the  ring — 
well,  I  will  return  it,  and  I  am  quite  sure,  Mr.  Lynd- 
hurst,  that  Miss  Byrd  will  be  as  surprised  as  ourselves 
to  learn  where  it  was  found." 

She  extended  her  hand,  and  Lyndhurst  took  it  quietly 
in  his. 

"  Mrs.  Redmond,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  if  I  can  ever 
be  of  any  real  service  to  you,  believe  me,  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  do  what  I  can. ' ' 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  continued : 

"I'm  rather  a  bungling  fellow,  you  know,  and  some- 
times I  run  plump  into  things  I  had  much  better  keep 
clear  of.  The  only  thing  I  can  do  then  is  to  back  out 
and  say  nothing,  but  I  can  always  be  depended  upon 
to  do  that — I'm  rather  an  expert  in  keeping  quiet  and 
attending  to  my  own  affairs  only,  you  know.  It's  quite 
a  hobby  with  me,  but  if  at  any  time " 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          257 

He  hesitated,  uncertain  how  to  proceed,  as  he  felt  the 
hand  in  his  grow  cold  to  the  finger-tips. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  almost  inaudibly,  "  I  shall 
remember. ' ' 

He  turned  aside,  hot  and  uncomfortable,  and  with  an 
incoherent  remark  about  a  speedy  return  with  his  pa- 
tient beat  a  hasty  retreat  into  the  hall.  His  self-imposed 
task  had  grown  most  difficult  of  achievement,  and  he 
felt  the  conviction  forced  unwillingly  upon  him  that 
Colonel  St.  John  was  indefinitely  reprieved  as  far  as 
he  was  concerned;  also  that  he  would  have  no  report 
to  submit  to  his  chief  upon  the  all-absorbing  Roostchook 
question. 

Lyndhurst  felt  for  a  cigar  and  repressed  an  inclina- 
tion to  swear.  He  cordially  detested  periods  of  indeci- 
sion, and  heretofore  had  not  encountered  many  of  them 
during  his  career;  he  also  detested  becoming  involved 
in  the  affairs  of  others,  but,  he  reflected  gloomily  as  he 
approached  the  Octagon  House,  he  seemed  to  be  in  for 
it  this  time. 

The  Secretary,  bending  over  his  desk  in  the  library, 
heard  the  front-door  close  without  interest.  He  wrote 
and  rewrote,  copied  and  revised,  and  at  last  put  aside 
his  pen  and  looked  at  the  result  of  his  labors.  Mrs. 
Redmond  entered  quietly,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der, and  looked  also,  her  blue  eyes  clouding  and  her  lips 
compressed. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  tender  my  resignation  as  the  Secretary 
of  State,  to  take  effect  upon  the  first  proximo,  and  to  request 
that  it  be  accepted  without  delay. 

"  In  taking  this  step  I  am  actuated  by  a  desire  to  preserve  the 
efficiency  of  the  Department  and  to  further  the  interests  of  the 
Government  in  the  present  emergency. 

17 


258  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  beg  to  express  my  thanks  for  the  honor  conferred  upon  me 
by  being  selected  as  the  head  of  your  Cabinet  and  for  the  con- 
fidence reposed  in  me  in  the  past. 

"  With  the  hope  that  I  may  receive  a  speedy  acceptance  of  my 
resignation,  1  remain, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  JOHN  REDMOND." 


The  Secretary  looked  at  his  wife  and  smiled. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  this  to  the  De- 
partment and  have  it  put  in  official  shape.  Don't  be 
distressed,  dear.  It 's  all  for  the  best. ' ' 

But  Mrs.  Redmond  pushed  the  paper  aside  impa- 
tiently. 

"  John,"  she  said  with  an  odd  little  laugh,  "  you 
must  not  do  this,  and  you  won't  want  to  any  more.  He 
is  found — Mr.  Leigh  is  found,  and  I'm  having  him 
brought  here." 

"Found,"  he  repeated,  "found?  Where,  Estelle? 
I  don 't  think  I  understand. ' ' 

"  He's  ill,  John — very  ill.  Mr.  Lyndhurst  discovered 
him  in  an  empty  house.  I  saw  him  this  afternoon, — Mr. 
Lyndhurst,  I  mean, — and  he  told  me.  I  don't  quite 
understand  myself,  but  I  gave  orders  for  Mr.  Leigh  to 
be  brought  here  at  once  because  I  thought  you  would 
wish  it." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  Secretary,  anxiously,  "  of 
course.  But — 

"  I've  had  the  blue  room  arranged  for  him,"  she  in- 
terrupted, "  and  telephoned  for  a  nurse  to  be  sent  at 
once.  We  must  do  all  we  can.  And  this" — she  touched 
the  paper  on  the  desk — "  can  go  into  the  fire,  for  the 
present  at  least." 

The   Secretary's  fingers  tightened   about  that   other 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          259 

paper  compressed  into  such  small  compass,  and  he  laid 
a  detaining  hand  upon  the  draft  of  his  resignation. 

"  No,  dear,"  he  said,  "  it  goes  to  the  President. 
Under  any  circumstances,  it  goes  to  the  President." 

Mrs.  Redmond  leaned  over  her  husband  and  slipped 
her  arm  about  his  neck. 

"Ah,  John,  don't,"  she  whispered,  "  wait  a  day  or 
two.  It's  all  coming  right.  For  my  sake, — for  your 
own  sake, — wait  a  little." 

But  Mr.  Redmond  had  arrived  at  a  decision  while  he 
sat  alone  in  the  library,  reviewing  the  past. 

"  It  goes  to-morrow,"  he  said  gently.  "I'm  sorry 
you  care  so  much,  my  dear,  but  it  goes. ' ' 

She  gave  an  inarticulate  little  cry  and  sank  on  her 
knees  beside  the  chair. 

"  Why,  Estelle,"  he  said  gravely,  "  Estelle." 

"  John,"  she  said,  taking  his  face  between  her  hands 
and  gazing  earnestly  into  his  eyes,  "  you  love  me,  don't 
you?  And — and  trust  me  too?  Isn't  it  so?" 

"  You  know  it,  dear,  why  ask  me?" 
'  I'm  asking  you  to  prove  your  love.  I've  never 
made  a  point  of  anything  since  we've  been  married,  but 
now  I  ask  you,  beg  you, — see,  John,  I,  your  wife,  am 
on  my  knees  to  you, — I  beg  you  to  wait — not  to  send  in 
that  resignation." 

' '  I  do  not  understand  you  to-night,  Estelle. ' ' 

"  It's  because  I  have  only  lately  learned  what  it 
means  to  you,"  she  continued  hurriedly.  "  I've  only 
just  realized  how  things  could  reflect  on  your  honor — 
but  I  know  now,  I  know.  I've  seen  you  grow  old  and 
ill  under  the  strain  and  I  can't  bear  it — I  can't  bear  it. 
Something  must  happen — Mr.  Leigh  is  found,  you  know. 
Wait  a  day  or  two  longer.  Don't  resign  to-morrow, 


THE    WIFE    OF 

dear.  For  your  own  sake,  for  my  sake,  don't,  John — 
for  my  sake. ' ' 

He  did  not  reply,  and  she  paused  a  moment,  then 
resumed  breathlessly. 

"  Just  two  or  three  days.  That's  all  I  ask.  Wait  that 
long.  If  you  love  me,  wait  that  long. ' ' 

The  Secretary  put  his  arm  about  his  wife  and  raised 
her  gently. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  see  you  there,  my  dear,"  he  said, 
"it  is  not  fitting.  You  are  strangely  excited;  your 
hands  are  cold  and  your  face  is  flushed.  Tell  me  why 
this  is  such  a  vital  matter  to  you.  I  thought  you  would 
be  glad  to  go  abroad,  where  we  could  be  together  all  the 
time.  You  have  often  said  you  wished  I  would  leave 
politics. ' ' 

"  But  not  this  way,"  she  interrupted.  "  Not  this 
way.  I  only  want  you  to  wait  until  you  are  vindicated 
— until  they  want  you  to  stay.  Something  will  happen, 
I — I  feel  it.  Oh,  it's  not  much  I  ask, — two  or  three 
days, — a  week  at  the  longest.  Oh  John,  dearest,  to 
please  me." 

"  Listen,  Estelle,"  he  said  gravely,  "  since  you  make 
such  a  point  of  it  I  will,  much  against  my  better  judg- 
ment, delay  a  few  days,  but  certainly  no  longer  than  a 
week. ' ' 

The  Secretary's  mouth  set  in  a  hard,  straight  line, 
and  he  squared  his  shoulders  as  he  laid  a  crushed  ball 
of  paper  upon  the  draft  of  his  resignation. 

"  At  the  end  of  that  time,"  he  said  firmly,  "  it  goes 
to  the  President.  Whatever  happens, — and  under  any 
circumstances, — it  goes.  Now  let  us  change  the  sub- 
ject. I  want  to  understand  more  fully  about  Mr. 
Leigh." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          261 

She  gave  a  relieved  sigh,  taking  his  hand  in  both  of 
hers  and  resting  her  face  against  it. 

"  Oh,  you're  good,"  she  murmured,  "  so  good.  And 
you  won't  be  sorry.  I  have  an  intuition,  dear — women 
do  sometimes,  you  know.  That's  why  I  was  so  insistent. 
I  didn't  want  you  to  leave  under  a  cloud — that's  what 
you  called  it  the  other  night,  isn  't  it  ?  But  it 's  lifting — 
the  cloud  is  lifting.  It's  very  black  now,  but  behind  it 
the  sky  is  clear.  Oh  John " 

And  with  a  sudden  collapse  of  overwrought  nerves 
Mrs.  Redmond  laid  her  head  upon  the  desk  and  gave 
way  to  a  paroxysm  of  tears.  Sorely  puzzled  and  withal 
a  little  anxious,  the  Secretary  put  his  arms  about  her 
and  drew  her  to  the  large  chair  beside  the  fire. 

' '  Don 't,  sweetheart, ' '  he  said,  unfastening  with  gentle 
fingers  the  plumed  hat  she  had  forgotten  to  remove, 
"  don't.  Why,  the  whole  thing  is  not  worth  a  tear 
from  you.  You  are  tired  and  nervous,  I  think,  and  no 
wonder.  Don 't  cry ;  it  hurts  me. ' ' 

"  John,"  she  said  brokenly,  her  face  hidden  on  his 
shoulder,  "  do  you  think  you  would  love  and  trust  me 
under  any  and  all  circumstances?" 

"  Under  any  and  all  circumstances,  Estelle." 

"  Because  I  may  put  you  to  the  test.  Don't  ask  me 
what  I  mean — I  don't  think  I  know.  I  am  tired  and 
nervous  too,  I  suppose,  but  I've  got  lots  to  do,  John, — 
hard  work, — and  when  it's  done  I'll  rest.  We'll  both 
rest.  I  hear  wheels  stopping  at  the  door,  don't  you? 
It's  Mr.  Leigh;  we  must  go  out  and  see  to  him.  And 
I'm  foolish,  John — don't  worry  about  me.  Kiss  me. 
Now  we'll  go  to  Mr.  Leigh." 


262  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXVII 


LYNDHURST  had  faithfully  discharged  his  errand.  He 
had  seen  Leigh  carried  bodily  downstairs,  mattress  and 
all,  by  the  Redmond  servants  without  rousing  from  the 
deep  sleep  into  which  he  had  sunk,  and  had  felt  thank- 
ful to  the  early  darkness  of  the  winter's  night  and  the 
seclusion  of  the  Octagon  House,  which  combined  to  pre- 
vent the  accumulation  of  the  curious  crowd  usually  in- 
separable from  such  occasions.  To  the  wondering 
servants  he  volunteered  no  explanation  whatever,  and 
devoted  his  energies  to  supporting  his  companion  on  the 
wide  back  seat  of  the  brougham. 

' '  Put  the  mattress  inside  the  door  and  go  home ; 
drive  carefully, ' '  he  directed  with  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the 
absence  of  an  inconvenient  policeman  of  an  inquiring 
turn  of  mind. 

Leigh  slept  heavily.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  be  in  a 
stupor  from  which  he  could  not  be  awakened.  The  Eng- 
lishman anxiously  touched  his  pulse  and  thanked 
Heaven  his  own  responsibility  would  soon  cease. 

He  saw  Leigh  carried  up  the  broad  stairway  of  the 
Redmond  house,  followed  by  the  doctor  and  a  white- 
capped  nurse,  who  waited  to  receive  them,  and  found 
himself  entering  into  a  halting  explanation  to  Mr.  Red- 
mond of  how  he  happened  to  be  near  the  Octagon  House, 
was  attracted  by  the  muttering  of  Leigh  in  his  delirium, 
and  at  once  investigated,  being  interested  in  ferreting 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         263 

out  sounds  attributed  to  the  supernatural,  and  curious 
regarding  the  legends  of  the  old  house.  He  grew  quite 
fluent  towards  the  latter  part  of  his  story  and  brought 
himself  to  an  abrupt  pause,  conscious  that  the  Secretary 
was  listening  with  a  puzzled  air  and  an  expression  of 
surprised  incredulity. 

Lyndhurst  suddenly  remembered  he  had  forgotten 
dinner  and  that  the  evening  was  well  advanced,  and,  re- 
marking that  he  would  look  in  later  to  hear  the  report 
of  the  doctor,  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

It  was  a  fact  worthy  of  comment  that  when  he  re- 
turned to  his  rooms  he  avoided  passing  the  British 
Legation;  he  believed  the  lion  and  the  unicorn  would 
look  reproachfully  down  upon  him  and  felt  he  deserved 
their  contempt. 

"  So  much  for  prying  into  your  neighbors'  back 
doors,"  he  remarked  grimly  to  a  friendly  lamp-post  as 
he  stopped  to  light  his  cigar. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Redmond  waited  the  verdict  of  the 
doctor.  The  Secretary,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  had 
followed  the  patient  upstairs,  so  she  sat  alone  in  the 
brightly  lighted  hall,  reviewing  the  events  of  the  day. 

Events  seemed  to  be  crowding  upon  one  another  with 
bewildering  swiftness  of  late,  and  there  was  a  decided 
uncertainty  as  to  what  the  next  revolution  of  the  wheel 
of  fate  might  bring  forth.  Estelle  caught  her  breath  as 
she  reflected  upon  the  helplessness  of  humanity  when 
their  garments  catch  upon  its  cogs,  and  she  knew  that 
with  the  flowing  draperies  of  woman  escape  is  particu- 
larly difficult.  Indeed,  it  sometimes  seems  as  though 
the  civilized  world  were  determined  to  shield  and  pro- 
tect its  masculine  element,  even  in  the  fashion  of  their 
raiment. 


264  THE    WIFE    OF 

She  sat  in  the  large,  carved  chair  from  which  she 
had  invited  Count  Valdmir  to  be  her  guest  on  New 
Year 's  night.  Was  it  only  yesterday  ?  It  seemed  to  her 
ages  had  come  and  gone  since  then.  The  very  griffins 
carved  upon  its  arms  suggested  the  handsome  face  of 
the  Russian,  and  the  surrounding  air  was  filled  with 
echoes  of  his  voice. 

''A  week,"  she  said  aloud,  "  only  a  week,  seven  days. 
But — it 's  got  to  be  done  somehow. ' ' 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  hall  upstairs ;  a  servant 
was  summoned  and  hastily  dispatched  to  the  nearest 
drug-store,  and  quiet  was  again  restored. 

Mrs.  Eedmond  put  her  hands  upon  the  arms  of  the 
chair  as  though  to  hide  the  griffins'  heads  and  thought 
of  her  interview  with  Lyndhurst.  So  he  knew.  What 
ultimate  use  would  he  make  of  his  knowledge? 

Colonel  St.  John's  daughter  believed  she  realized  the 
implacability  of  his  nature,  but  Mrs.  Redmond  involun- 
tarily trusted  in  the  chivalry  of  his  manhood. 

She  heard  the  doctor,  in  the  upper  hall,  say  something 
in  a  low  voice  and  her  husband 's  quiet  reply.  In  another 
moment  they  might  come  downstairs.  Could  she  pull 
herself  together  and  talk  to  them  naturally?  For  an 
instant  surrounding  objects  blurred  and  the  walls  leaned 
towards  each  other;  then  gradually  furniture  and  bric- 
a-brac  separated,  and  the  walls  resumed  their  former 
upright  position.  Air — she  must  have  air. 

Catching  up  the  fur-lined  cloak  she  had  flung  aside 
upon  her  return  a  few  hours  previous  she  went  out  on 
the  doorstep  and  leaned  against  the  stone  framework, 
her  cheek  pressed  against  its  rough  surface. 

"  I  must  think,"  she  said  as  the  cool  wind  drove 
away  the  faintness  and  brought  a  trace  of  color  to  her 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          265 

face;  "  it  takes  a  lot  of  thinking,  but  after  awhile  it 
will  come  to  me.  It's  got  to  be  done — I  see  it  quite 
plainly." 

The  street-lamps  shone  dimly  and  the  stars  overhead 
displayed  shining  points  of  light  against  the  dark  back- 
ground of  the  sky.  Carriages  and  pedestrians  hurried 
along,  bent  on  reaching  their  destination  as  speedily  as 
possible,  and  the  quiet  of  the  early  evening  descended 
upon  the  city.  After  awhile,  some  hours  later,  the 
avocations  of  the  night  would  commence  and  parts  of 
Washington,  at  least,  would  be  far  from  peaceful. 

Estelle  pressed  her  face  closer  to  the  hard  stone  and 
looked  from  the  stars  to  the  street  below. 

"  The  debt  is  mine,"  she  said  slowly,  "  mine — and 
I  must  pay  the  price." 

A  man  and  woman  approached.  She,  resplendent  as 
to  hat  and  feathers,  dragging  her  tawdry  skirts  along 
the  pavement  to  conceal  defective  shoes ;  he,  with  hands 
thrust  deep  in  his  pockets  and  hat  well  down  over  his 
eyes  to  conceal  his  identity.  Just  opposite  the  house 
she  laid  her  hand,  in  its  torn  and  dirty  white  glove, 
upon  his  arm  and  spoke  earnestly,  the  painted  face 
beneath  the  draggled  feathers  raised  appealingly.  With 
a  muttered  oath  he  shook  off  the  hand  as  though  fearing 
contamination  from  her  touch. 

' '  Drop  your  whining ! "  he  commanded.  ' '  Don 't  you 
know  it's  all  past  and  over?" 

She  made  a  low-voiced  reply  and  he  impatiently 
pulled  out  his  purse. 

"  There,"  he  said,  rapidly  selecting  a  note,  "  I  want 
to  see  no  more  of  you.  Is  a  man  never  to  be  free  from  a 
millstone  about  his  neck?  Here,  take  it,  and  go  back 
where  you  belong." 


266  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Where  I  belong?"  she  cried  sharply;  "  yes,  and 
who  sent  me  there,  who " 

They  passed  out  of  hearing  and  faded  away  in  the 
distance,  he  striding  along  in  front,  she  following  de- 
jectedly a  few  feet  in  the  rear.  Night  had  begun 
already. 

Mrs.  Redmond  shivered  as  she  went  back  into  the 
radiance  and  warmth  of  the  hall.  She  had  looked  with 
unwilling  eyes  into  a  dangerous  abyss  of  darkness  and 
felt  an  irresistible  desire  for  light  and  safety. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  her  husband  stood  in  earnest 
consultation  with  the  doctor. 

"A  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head,"  the  physician  was 
saying,  "  resulting  in  concussion.  The  danger  lies  in 
the  abnormally  high  temperature.  The  case  bears  inves- 
tigation, Mr.  Redmond.  With  your  permission  I  shall 
report  it  to  the  police." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Secretary  promptly,  "  the 
sooner  the  better.  I  will  offer  a  liberal  reward  for  the 
capture  of  the  man  who  dealt  the  blow.  Mr.  Leigh  is 
my  private  secretary  and  an  uncommonly  fine  young 
fellow.  I  have  a  great  personal  regard  for  him  and 
interest  in  his  welfare." 

The  doctor  thoughtfully  drew  on  his  gloves. 

' '  The  Octagon  House,  I  think  you  said, ' '  he  remarked 
slowly;  "  a  very  strange  case.  Pity  he  is  unable  to 
throw  any  light  on  it  himself,  but,  of  course,  that  is  out 
of  the  question  for  the  present ;  perhaps  he  may  be  able 
to  talk  a  bit  in  a  day  or  two,  however,  and  it  might  be 
well  to  delay  informing  the  police  for  a  little.  Well,  I 
must  be  off.  The  nurse  is  entirely  competent,  the  best 
on  my  list;  it's  lucky  she  was  at  leisure,  for  he  needs 
skilled  attention.  I'll  look  in  again  later  on.  Mrs.  Red- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          267 

mond  need  feel  no  responsibility  in  the  matter;  Miss 
Gray  has  my  instructions,  and,  as  I  said,  she  is  very 
efficient.  Good-night. ' ' 

"John,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  as  the  door  closed,  "  will 
the  police  be  notified  to-night?" 

He  replied  absently  that  he  hardly  thought  so,  but 
was  not  sure. 

"And,"  she  continued,  "  they  will  search  the  Octa- 
gon House — set  some  one  to  watch  it,  perhaps  ? ' ' 

"  Dinner  is  served,"  said  James,  appearing  at  the 
door  with  a  long-suffering  expression  of  countenance. 
It  was  the  third  time  that  night  he  had  made  the  an- 
nouncement, and  as  yet  no  one  had  responded. 

The  Secretary  put  his  arm  about  his  wife. 

"  Come,  dear,"  he  said  gently,  "  you  need  your 
dinner  and  so  do  I.  We  are  both  tired,  I  think." 


In  the  blue  room  the  nurse  stood  beside  the  bed  and 
gazed  at  her  patient.  Up  to  the  present  time  she  had 
been  too  busy  for  more  than  a  hasty  pause  of  surprise 
when  the  light  first  fell  upon  his  face;  now,  however, 
had  come  a  lull  in  active  operations  and  she  could  collect 
her  thoughts. 

She  had  grown  accustomed  to  emergency  cases  and 
had  responded  promptly  when  summoned,  although  very 
tired  and  sorely  in  need  of  a  few  days'  rest,  and  she 
experienced  a  decided  thrill  of  gratification  when  the 
doctor  in  a  few  hasty  words  expressed  his  satisfaction 
that  she  was  at  leisure. 

"  For  you  know,  Miss  Gray,  we  have  a  tough  job 
before  us  for  a  few  days  at  least;  after  that  it  ought 
to  be  plain  sailing.  But  together  we'll  pull  him  through, 


268  THE    WIFE    OF 

I  hope.  Fine-looking  young  chap,  isn't  he?  I'll  drop 
in  again  to-night.  Meanwhile  watch  the  temperature; 
it  ought  to  fall  somewhat  shortly,  and  it  must  not  rise. ' ' 

Mary  Gray  knew  that  her  profession  was  apt  to  bring 
her  in  constant  contact  with  the  unexpected,  but  as  she 
looked  at  the  face  upon  the  pillow  she  experienced  a 
moment  of  incredulous  astonishment. 

David  Leigh  at  Mrs.  Colson's  had  insensibly  at- 
tracted her.  His  frank,  hearty  manner  and  laughing 
blue  eyes,  as  well  as  the  air  of  good-fellowship  with  the 
world  in  general,  had  appealed  to  the  girl  already  weary 
of  the  struggle  for  existence,  although  his  exuberant 
health  and  spirits  had  rather  overpowered  her. 

Mary  shaded  the  light  and  turned  to  collect  the  gar- 
ments scattered  about  the  room.  As  she  folded  the  coat, 
giving  a  little  shake  to  free  it  from  the  dust,  something 
fell  from  an  inside  pocket  and  she  stooped  and  picked 
it  up.  Was  it  necessary  for  her  to  remove  everything 
from  his  pockets,  she  wondered,  as  well  as  the  purse  the 
doctor  had  laid  on  the  dressing-table. 

She  held  the  long  envelope  in  her  hand,  oppressed 
with  the  sense  of  something  strangely  familiar  in  the 
surrounding  atmosphere.  Her  patient's  condition  de- 
manded her  undivided  attention.  Why,  then,  should  she 
be  able  to  think  only  of  her  sister?  Why  should  Chris- 
tine's laces,  ribbons,  and  various  unimportant  articles 
of  apparel  be  uppermost  in  her  mind? 

Leigh  stirred  uneasily,  but  she  stood  absorbed,  his 
coat  over  her  arm  and  the  hand  holding  the  papers 
hanging  listlessly  at  her  side.  Suddenly  she  raised  the 
envelope,  looked  at  it  with  startled  eyes,  and  held  it  to 
her  nose.  Yes,  it  was  there.  The  subtle,  penetrating 
odor  which  Christine  loved  and  she  considered  sicken- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          269 

ing ;  the  curious  mixture  of  sachet  powders  the  younger 
girl  had  learned  from  an  old  Frenchwoman,  and  in  the 
possession  of  which  secret  she  exulted  openly,  triumph- 
ing in  the  individuality  of  her  perfume. 

Mary  felt  in  the  coat-pocket  and  drew  out  a  handker- 
chief. It  wras  possible  the  Frenchwoman  had  given  her 
receipt  to  more  than  one  person.  The  handkerchief, 
however,  was  guiltless  of  scent  of  any  kind,  and  she 
returned  it  regretfully. 

Why  did  the  envelope  seem  familiar?  She  bent  over 
it  and  laboriously  examined  the  one  word,  blurred  and 
indistinct. 

«     T>     _  •>•> 

xv-o-o 

Suddenly  she  paused.  She  remembered  the  night  of 
Mr.  Marks 's  first  visit  to  Christine,  the  white  hyacinths 
and  the  package  flung  impatiently  aside  unopened  after 
the  first  three  letters  were  spelled  out  and  never  again 
mentioned.  The  nurse  forgot  her  duty  to  her  patient 
in  her  realization  of  her  duty  to  her  sister,  and  opened 
the  envelope. 


270  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXVIII 


THE  downward  path  is  very  easy  to  travel.  No  effort 
is  required  for  steady  progress,  and  the  way  is  so  broad 
and  free  from  obstacles  that  insensibly  the  pace  increases 
until  it  is  impossible  to  halt,  for  one  must  keep  moving 
rapidly  if  he  would  not  be  trampled  by  the  feet  rushing 
on  behind. 

Consequently  the  traveller,  flying  breathlessly  along, 
arrives  before  he  realizes  it  in  the  quicksand  awaiting 
him  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  struggles  ineffectually  to 
free  himself,  and  looks  with  terrified  eyes  upon  the 
ending  of  the  road. 

Colonel  St.  John,  seated  beside  the  watchman's  table 
in  the  Department  of  State,  felt  the  closing  of  the  quick- 
sand and  knew  he  had  reached  the  termination  of  the 
path.  Heretofore  he  had  successfully  managed  to  elude 
justice  whenever  necessary,  but  this  time  he  realized 
any  effort  would  be  futile  and  had  not  courage  to 
attempt  it. 

It  was  very  silent  in  the  great  building  as  he  looked 
through  the  long  corridor  with  its  row  of  lights  pendent 
from  the  ceiling,  spaced,  he  thought,  in  such  a  manner 
as  merely  to  accentuate  the  gloom.  Here  and  there  in 
the  distance  a  lower  light  shone  more  brightly  beside 
a  watchman's  table;  he  felt  grateful  for  human  com- 
panionship, but  was  not  popular  with  his  associates,  and 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         271 

they  rarely  approached  him  for  the  desultory  inter- 
course with  which  they  enlivened  their  waking  hours. 

Colonel  St.  John  felt  no  inclination  for  sleep.  He 
leaned  his  head  against  the  wall  and  wondered  idly 
whether  he  would  be  there  another  night,  or  whether 
he  wold  repose  at  the  police  station,  or —  He  did  not 
dwell  on  the  last  thought. 

By  this  time  Count  Valdmir  would  surely  have  opened 
the  package  of  papers.  He  recalled  his  own  sensations 
when  he  unfastened  them  and  spread  them  out  on  the 
table  in  the  Octagon  House.  The  envelope  he  had 
pounced  upon  with  such  avidity  had  been  filled  with 
blank  papers  carefully  folded  and  labelled. 

Colonel  St.  John  remembered  how  he  had  procured 
them.  He  had  not  been  on  duty  at  the  Department  that 
night,  but  had  worked  late  at  the  Octagon  House  and 
finally  started  for  Jackson  City  through  the  old  garden, 
with  the  intention  of  making  use  of  the  gap  in  the  wall. 
The  night  was  cold  and  Jackson  City  seemed  a  long  dis- 
tance away,  so  he  had  fortified  himself  by  repeated 
applications  of  his  lips  to  a  square  black  bottle,  kept 
carefully  concealed  from  inquisitive  eyes  in  his  coat- 
pocket. 

Just  at  the  gap  in  the  wall  he  had  encountered  a  tall 
figure,  which  seemed  to  his  fevered  imagination 
strangely  like  Lyndhurst,  and  Lyndhurst  was  hunting 
him  as  a  bloodhound  tracks  its  prey.  The  figure  paused 
just  inside  the  wall  and  he  had  instinctively  stooped  and 
picked  up  a  brick.  He  saw  again  the  red  light  which 
had  leaped  to  his  eyes  and  his  stealthy  advance  with 
raised  arm. 

Colonel  St.  John,  sick  at  heart  in  his  watchman's 
chair,  remembered  the  discovery  that  his  victim  was  not 


272  THE    WIFE    OF 

Lyndhurst,  and  the  slow  dragging  of  the  inanimate  form 
across  the  garden  and  up  the  stairs.  He  was  very  heavy, 
and  the  old  man  had  been  exhausted  upon  reaching  his 
room.  He  had  put  the  mattress  from  his  cot  on  the 
floor  in  the  little  inner  room  and  laid  the  figure  on  it, 
applying  such  slight  remedies  as  he  had  on  hand, 
loosened  his  collar,  and  in  doing  so  turned  back  his  coat. 
In  the  inside  pocket  was  a  long  envelope  clearly  labelled 
"  Roostchook." 

A  day  or  so  passed,  and  the  man  he  had  hit  with  a 
brick  grew  feverish  and  restless.  He  understood  quite 
clearly  what  might  happen  if  he  died;  then  had  come 
the  temptation  to  make  use  of  the  subterranean  passage ; 
also  the  memory  of  the  Octoroon  safely  walled  up  in  the 
cellar.  Another  ghost  more  or  less  would  not  affect  the 
reputation  of  the  old  house. 

Then  he  had  felt  the  overwhelming  desire  to  leave 
America.  He  was  rich  in  the  unexpected  possession  of 
his  daughter  and  independent  as  far  as  money  was  con- 
cerned. She  would,  he  was  convinced,  pay  well  for 
silence,  and  he  could  quietly  depart,  leaving  his  work 
for  Count  Valdmir  unfinished. 

Colonel  St.  John  thought  he  understood  the  Russian. 
He  had  often  before  in  his  career  seen  a  man  in  love 
with  a  woman,  although  he,  himself,  had  never  suc- 
cumbed so  completely  as  to  sympathize  with  ths  situa- 
tion. Then  had  come  the  suspicion  that  he  was  under 
surveillance,  the  frantic  desire  for  immediate  escape, 
and  the  attempt  to  pass  off  the  blank  papers  on  Count 
Valdmir.  The  bluff  worked  successfully,  but  he  had 
not  dared  attempt  to  leave  the  city  as  he  had  planned. 
Sooner  or  later  the  Russian  would  open  the  package. 
Probably  he  had  done  so  by  this  time,  and  then 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          273 

Colonel  St.  John  moved  restlessly.  How  still  it  was. 
He  counted  the  black  and  white  squares  on  the  floor  of 
the  corridor  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  and  aimlessly 
switched  on  and  off  his  light.  He  thought  of  Count 
Valdmir,  and  his  hand  clinched  as  he  recalled  the  Rus- 
sian's contemptuous  attitude  towards  him  and  relentless 
demand  for  his  services.  Well,  he  had  worked  for  his 
freedom.  In  his  room  at  the  Octagon  House  were  piles 
of  completed  tracings  showing  all  the  outlying  defences 
of  the  principal  seaports  of  the  country.  Some  of  them 
had  been  difficult  to  procure,  but  he  had  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  one  way  or  another,  and  to-morrow  he  was 
to  deliver  them  to  his  employer. 

The  moments  dragged  slowly.  Eleven — twelve.  It 
was  a  long  time  yet  before  morning;  many  hours  in 
which  to  speculate  upon  the  events  of  to-morrow  and 
to  arrange  his  plans  for  the  day.  Somewhere  out  of 
sight  a  watchman  laughed,  waking  clamorous  echoes  and 
reverberations.  Colonel  St.  John  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
stood  at  bay,  his  back  against  the  wall,  then  dropped 
weakly  into  his  chair. 

"  I've  gone  to  pieces,"  he  muttered  dejectedly,  "  all 
to  pieces." 

He  thought  suddenly  of  David  Leigh,  ill,  perhaps 
dying,  on  the  floor  of  the  Octagon  House.  Would  it  be 
murder  in  the  first  degree?  What  should  he  do  with 
the  body?  Colonel  St.  John  gasped  and  loosened  his 
collar. 

An  irresistible  impulse  led  him  to  open  the  large 
doors  and  look  out  into  the  night.  His  post  of  duty 
had  lately  been  changed  from  the  second  to  the  first 
floor,  and  he  was  stationed  by  the  south  entrance.  The 
moon  shone  whitely,  bathing  Washington  in  its  en- 

18 


274  THE    WIFE    OF 

chanted  light,  but  he  looked  at  it  unmoved.  He  had 
often  seen  the  moon  before.  The  smoke  of  a  train  cross- 
ing the  Potomac  rose  black  against  the  horizon,  and  the 
old  man  caught  his  breath  as  he  watched  it  fade  away. 

There  was  a  chance,  a  mere  chance.  He  would  try 
it.  Just  as  he  was,  hatless  and  without  an  overcoat,  he 
would  make  his  way  to  Jackson  City.  There  was  money 
in  the  box  in  his  room  there.  Not  much,  perhaps,  but 
it  would  do,  and  he  would  again  evade  the  law.  Once 
in  a  place  of  safety,  Estelle  should  send  him  plenty 
more. 

He  looked  sharply  about  for  the  shadow  which  had 
darkened  his  pathway  of  late,  but  observed  only  the 
shadows  cast  by  the  pillars  of  the  portico  upon  which  he 
stood.  Evidently  he  was  safe  until  morning  at  least. 

With  a  hasty,  decisive  motion  Colonel  St.  John  softly 
closed  the  door  of  the  State  Department  and  started 
in  the  direction  of  the  Potomac. 

It  was  very  cold.  The  night  wind  seemed  to  go 
through  his  bones.  At  the  curve  of  the  ellipse  he 
paused ;  it  was  possible  the  type  of  cab  known  as  night- 
hawk  might  be  prowling  in  the  vicinity.  Such  a  cab 
would  drive  him  across  the  river  and  ask  no  questions 
en  route,  so  he  looked  anxiously  about. 

Behind  him  stood  the  Department  of  State,  with  its 
manifold  official  secrets;  at  his  left  was  the  White 
House,  perhaps  also  containing  private  affairs  of  its 
own;  before  him  flowed  the  Potomac,  and  beyond  was 
Jackson  City,  both,  no  doubt,  covering  many  an  un- 
known tragedy;  at  his  right  was  the  street  leading  to 
the  Octagon  House,  a  short  square  distant,  with  perhaps 
another  mystery  now  inside  its  walls. 

Colonel  St.  John  shivered  from  the  cold  within  as 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         275 

well  as  without  as  he  looked  up  the  silent  street.  Was 
Leigh  living  or  dead?  He  had  seemed  to  the  old  man 
very  ill  that  night.  Involuntarily  he  moved  a  few  steps 
to  the  right ;  he  wished  to  know  what  to  expect. 

A  cloud  drifted  across  the  face  of  the  moon,  and  far 
in  the  distance  he  heard  the  whistle  of  an  approaching 
train.  He  must  hurry  if  he  would  reach  Jackson  City, 
return  to  the  railway  station,  and  leave  Washington  by 
daylight. 

"  Cab,  suh,  cab?" 

It  was  one  of  the  worst  specimens  of  its  kind,  but  the 
old  man  did  not  look  at  it.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
lamp-post  marking  the  street  at  his  right  and  his  hands 
were  stretched  out  before  him  as  by  one  who  walks  in 
the  dark. 

"  Cab,  suh?" 

The  driver  waited  a  moment,  then  drove  off,  the 
sound  of  the  retreating  wheels  gradually  dying  away  in 
the  distance  as  Colonel  St.  John  turned  his  back  on  the 
Potomac  and  hastened  towards  the  Octagon  House.  He 
walked  as  one  without  volition  of  his  own,  with  white, 
set  face  and  automatic  movement. 

Along  the  quiet  street  he  hurried,  encountering  no 
one,  turned  down  the  alley,  and  reached  the  broken  wall, 
where  he  paused.  Here  he  had  stood  that  other  night 
when  the  figure  passed  him;  here  was  the  very  brick 
he  had  used,  lying  apart  from  its  fellows  as  though 
ostracized  for  its  cowardly  deed. 

Colonel  St.  John  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  but 
dropped  it  immediately  as  though  it  burned  his  hand. 
A  man  might  meet  death  through  his  indirect  instru- 
mentality; such  an  occurrence  was  not  unknown  in  his 
career.  It  was,  however,  a  different  matter  to  be  asso- 


276  THE    WIFE    OF 

elated  with  the  sordid  details  of  the  episode,  and  he 
recoiled  from  personal  contact  with  the  instrument 
employed. 

The  house  was  dark  and  forbidding  in  comparison 
with  the  surrounding  whiteness  of  the  snow-covered 
garden  and  moonlight-flooded  sky.  It  stood  grim  and 
silent,  an  irresistible  magnet  drawing  him  steadily,  un- 
willingly onward.  Now  his  hand  was  on  the  latch  of  the 
back  door ;  now  he  was  in  the  hall ;  up — he  must  go  up 
— to  find — what  ? 

He  groped  his  way  towards  the  stairs,  but  half  way 
across  the  hall  turned  with  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing. He  was  a  fool — a  fool.  He  must  hurry,  for  the 
night  was  passing  and  Jackson  City  still  unachieved. 

Colonel  St.  John,  shaking  with  the  penetrating  cold 
of  the  old  house  and  with  that  inner  chill,  put  his  hands 
over  his  ears  to  shut  out  he  knew  not  what,  and  made 
an  unsteady  dash  in  the  darkness  for  the  front  door. 
Almost  on  the  threshold  he  tripped  and  fell  headlong, 
and  his  face  was  buried  in  the  mattress  the  Redmond 
servants  had  thrust  inside  the  door  a  few  hours  previous, 
when  Leigh  was  removed. 

Quivering  in  every  nerve,  the  old  man  lay  motionless, 
his  heart  thumping  painfully  and  his  body  shrinking 
from  the  unknown  which  threatened  from  the  surround- 
ing darkness. 

Gradually,  however,  he  grew  calmer  and  passed  his 
hands  wonderingly  over  the  mattress,  with  a  dim  sense 
of  recognition ;  a  rip  in  one  side  greeted  him  familiarly. 
Colonel  St.  John  sat  upright  and  felt  for  his  matches, 
struck  one,  and  gazed  at  the  prosaic  ticking  by  its  uncer- 
tain light.  With  a  smothered  exclamation  he  made  his 
way  across  the  hall  and  mounted  the  stairs  with  the 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          277 

agility  of  a  younger  man,  holding  tightly  to  the  banister, 
as  though  the  contact  of  the  unyielding  wood  imparted 
courage. 

On  the  landing  he  paused.  The  caretaker's  door  stood 
wide  open  and  that  other  door  was  open  also.  He  could 
see  the  kerosene-stove  now,  burned  low,  and  burdening 
the  air  with  its  aroma,  for  life  in  such  stoves  dies  hard. 
There  was  his  table  with  its  unfinished  sketch;  he  ad- 
vanced reluctantly,  again  obeying  the  mysterious  force 
he  had  no  power  to  withstand,  and  stood  before  the  inner 
door.  Here  was  the  chair  with  the  pitcher  of  water  and 
the  few  remedies  he  had  ventured  to  apply;  evidently 
it  had  been  pushed  aside  carelessly,  for  the  bottles  had 
fallen  over  and  the  water  was  spilled  upon  the  floor; 
here  was  the  corner  where  the  mattress  had  rested — 
empty  now  and  uncommunicative  indeed;  and  here  on 
the  floor  at  his  feet  lay  a  man 's  glove. 

"  Dead,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and  removed  by  the 
authorities.  Dead ! ' ' 

He  picked  up  the  glove  and  examined  it  in  the  failing 
light.  It  was  fresh  and  of  good  quality,  such  a  glove 
as  a  gentleman  would  wear.  At  last  he  turned  it  inside 
out  and  bent  to  decipher  the  maker's  name.  Colonel 
St.  John  was  obliged  to  resort  to  his  glasses,  for  the 
marking  was  indistinct,  but  very  slowly  he  spelled  it 
out,  letter  by  letter.  It  bore  the  stamp  of  a  well-known 
English  house. 

The  old  man's  knees  gave  way  and  he  sank  upon  the 
floor  beside  the  chair. 

"  Lyndhurst!"  he  gasped,  "  Lyndhurst!" 

The  stove  spluttered  and  went  out.  Through  a  chink 
high  up  on  the  broken  shutter  the  moon  sent  a  pale  ray 
which  reached  the  wall  opposite,  softening  its  dingy  cov- 


278  THE    WIFE    OF 

ering  into  pearly  whiteness,  and  making  a  narrow  path 
of  light  across  the  dusty  floor.  It  fell  upon  the  broken 
chair  and  touched  gently  the  gray  head  resting  there 
among  the  bottles.  The  hand  grasping  the  glove  was  in 
the  shadow  and  the  face  turned  towards  the  light  was 
lined  and  haggard,  but  the  eyes  were  closed  and  the 
exhausted  faculties  mercifully  at  rest,  for  Colonel  St. 
John  had  fainted. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         279 


XXIX 


IT  was  well  known  in  the  political  world  that  the 
Hon.  Charles  Rivers  and  the  Hon.  Joshua  Grimes  were 
apt  to  clash  when  brought  into  contact  upon  any  subject 
whatever,  be  it  trivial  or  important.  Indeed,  it  was 
said  that  did  the  Member  from  Virginia  arise  to  make  a 
statement  upon  the  floor  of  the  House,  the  Member  from 
South  Dakota  immediately  rose  also  and  flatly  contra- 
dicted it,  whether  he  was  conversant  with  the  subject 
or  not,  thus  adding  a  piquancy  to  the  sessions  of  that 
august  body  of  lawmakers  much  enjoyed  by  its  members. 

Mr.  Rivers  clothed  himself  in  superiority  and  sar- 
casm, in  both  of  which  weapons  he  was  an  adept;  Mr. 
Grimes  launched  forth  in  invective  and  ridicule,  and 
was  frequently  rewarded  by  laughter  and  applause  from 
the  public  gallery,  upon  which  despised  spot  his  adver- 
sary turned  an  immaculate  and  contemptuous  back. 

The  engagement  of  Mr.  Rivers  to  Isabel  Byrd  had 
been  what  Mr.  Grimes  described  as  "  a  bitter  pill  to 
swallow,"  as  he  felt  for  that  young  woman  a  paternal 
affection  and  more  than  usual  interest.  Having  no 
children  of  his  own,  he  was  apt  to  look  with  covetous 
eyes  upon  the  more  fortunate,  and  one  of  his  frequent 
diversions  was  to  cast  his  appraising  eye  about  the  youth 
of  his  acquaintance  and  select  from  among  them  such 
girls  and  young  men  as  he  thought  would  make  up  a 
creditable  family. 


280  THE    WIFE    OF 

Needless  to  say,  this  imaginary  family  was  subject  to 
constant  change,  and  its  members  were  frequently  de- 
posed by  some  unwitting  speech  or  act. 

"  No  child  of  mine  could  do  that,"  he  would  reflect 
angrily,  and  forthwith  disown  him  or  her  forever. 

Isabel,  however,  had  steadily  held  her  position  as 
favorite  daughter  for  many  years;  he  had  watched  her 
grow  up  and  develop,  exulting  in  her  undeniable  charm 
and  acknowledged  success  even  as  her  own  father  had 
gloried  in  it,  and  had  lately  begun  to  cast  around  for  a 
suitable  match.  His  son-in-law,  he  decided,  should  be 
young,  handsome,  high-principled,  and  filled  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  youth;  money  was  of  no  consequence, 
as  Isabel  had  plenty  of  her  own,  and  he  intended  she 
should  have  more  when  he  was  done  with  it.  So  he 
watched  and  waited,  and  finally  selected  David  Leigh 
as  more  nearly  meeting  the  requirements  than  any  young 
fellow  of  his  acquaintance. 

"  Though  even  he,"  soliloquized  Mr.  Grimes  regret- 
fully, "  doesn't  quite  fill  the  bill." 

Forthwith  he  cultivated  David  assiduously,  much  to 
the  surprise  of  that  unsuspecting  youth. 

' '  He  must  be  tempted, ' '  said  Mr.  Grimes,  and  brought 
such  temptation  in  his  way  as  he  thought  proper.  David, 
his  heart  heavy  with  his  own  affairs,  found  no  difficulty 
in  passing  through  the  ordeal  unscathed,  and  was 
accordingly  awarded  the  prize. 

Therefore,  when  Mr.  Grimes  received  a  pretty  little 
note  from  Isabel  announcing  her  engagement  and  say- 
ing she  "  was  sure  he  would  be  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  cast 
it  indignantly  from  him  and  burst  forth  into  language 
unprintable. 

"  I  could  have  stood  anybody  else,"  he  said  sadly,  the 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          281 

first  ebullition  of  wrath  subsided,  "  anybody  but  that 
sleek,  supercilious  puppy." 

To-day,  however,  Mr.  Grimes  had  invited  the  super- 
cilious puppy  to  lunch  with  him  at  the  Metropolitan 
Club.  This  was  in  tacit  acknowledgment  of  his  own 
surrender  to  the  inevitable  and  his  determination  to 
keep  on  good  terms  with  Isabel's  husband  as  long  as 
possible,  and  Mr.  Rivers  had  accepted  the  invitation  for 
reasons  of  his  own.  Therefore  the  belligerents  sat  them- 
selves peacefully  down  before  a  small,  damask-covered 
table  and  did  justice  to  a  thoughtfully  selected  luncheon, 
carefully  avoiding  subjects  which  might  involve  rocks 
ahead. 

"  Try  a  Havana,"  said  Mr.  Grimes  hospitably  as  the 
coffee  arrived. 

' '  They  are  unusually  fine, ' '  remarked  Mr.  Rivers  with 
an  appreciative  puff. 

Then  ensued  a  pause  while  the  ashes  accumulated  on 
the  ends  of  the  Havanas. 

"I'm  glad  it's  the  short  session,"  said  Mr.  Grimes  by 
way  of  introducing  a  subject  for  conversation,  "  and  so 
nearly  over.  One  gets  tired  of  the  routine  business,  you 
know. ' ' 

"It  is  probable,"  returned  Rivers  coolly,  "  that  the 
President  may  call  an  extra  session.  He  certainly  will 
if  the  Roostchook  matter  is  not  settled  soon.  There  may 
be  an  investigating  committee  appointed  to  look  into 
the  methods  of  the  State  Department.  In  my  opinion 
it  is  time  something  was  done. ' ' 

' '  Nonsense ! ' '  retorted  Grimes,  forgetting  his  role  of 
placidity  and  yielding  to  long-established  habit, 
"  nothing  of  the  kind." 

Rivers  smiled  and  shook  the  ashes  off  the  end  of  his 


282  THE    WIFE    OF 

cigar  with  a  slow  deliberation  most  exasperating  to  his 
companion. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  if  you  think  it  unneces- 
sary  ' ' 

He  paused  expressively,  and  Mr.  Grimes,  as  he  told 
Senator  Byrd  later,  grew  hot  around  the  collar. 

"  Unnecessary,"  he  exploded,  "by  Jove,  sir,  it  would 
be  an  outrage! — I  tell  you,  an  outrage!  Look  at  the 
man  at  the  head  of  the  Department  of  State  and  then 
talk  about  investigating  committees." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Rivers  amicably,  "  look  at  him.  He's 
getting  old.  Every  man  has  his  day.  I  don't  intend 
to  imply  anything  derogatory  to  Mr.  Redmond,  for  I 
have  the  highest  regard  for  him  as  a  man.  As  a  states- 
man, I  think  he's  worn  out,  if  you  want  to  know  my 
opinion,  and  possibly  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  the  un- 
scrupulous. ' ' 

"  Worn  out,"  spluttered  Mr.  Grimes  indignantly, 
* '  worn  out,  indeed !  You  don 't  know  what  you  're  talk- 
ing about.  Why,  John  Redmond  can  be  our  next  Presi- 
dent if  he  wants  to — which,  being  a  man  of  great  good 
sense,  he  probably  doesn't.  Worn  out,  indeed!  Who 
brought  the  country  through  the  crisis  in  Ecuador  with- 
out a  drop  of  blood  being  spilt  on  either  side?  Who 
handled  the  Algerian  question?  Who — 

"  Who  muddled  the  Roostchook  matter?"  finished 
Rivers  imperturbably.  "  Quite  so.  And  let  me  tell 
you,  my  friend,  it  has  gone  a  long  way  beyond  a  joke 
in  the  opinion  of  the  President.  I  speak  in  confidence, 
of  course,  but  it  is  really  an  open  secret.  Soon,  I  think, 
there  will  be  at  least  one  change  in  the  Cabinet.  A  word 
to  the  wise  is  sufficient." 

"I'm  a  plain  man,"  said  the  other  slowly,  "  and  I 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         283 

like  plain  speaking.  I'm  no  good  at  riddles.  If  you 
have  anything  to  say,  speak  out ;  don 't  insinuate  every- 
thing and  say  nothing.  It's  a  nasty  habit,  and  one 
that  I'd  advise  you  to  break  yourself  of.  What  do  you 
mean  ? ' ' 

Rivers  looked  into  the  rapidly  purpling  face  of  his 
companion  and  laughed  easily,  then  leaned  forward, 
tapping  the  table  with  his  fingers  authoritatively. 

"  Where  is  the  Secretary's  secretary?"  he  said. 

"  Where  is  he?"  returned  Grimes,  decidedly  puzzled, 
"  why,  at  his  work,  of  course.  Where  else  should 
he  be?" 

"He  is  not,"  returned  Rivers  decidedly,  "  nor  has 
he  been  for  the  past  week.  The  Department  knows 
nothing  of  his  movements;  the  place  where  he  lives 
knows  nothing;  the  Secretary  professes  to  know 
nothing. ' ' 

"  Young  man,"  interrupted  the  Member  from  South 
Dakota,  "  be  careful  how  you  express  yourself.  You 
are  speaking  of  my  friend." 

"  Well,"  said  Rivers  smoothly,  "I'm  only  telling  you 
what  I  thought  would  interest  you.  The  general  public 
will  soon  get  on  to  the  facts,  I  think.  Mr.  Leigh  has 
gone ;  the  Roostchook  papers  have  vanished ;  the  synop- 
sis of  the  President 's  policy  cannot  be  found.  Moreover, 
I  have  proof." 

"  Well,  you'll  need  it,"  retorted  Mr.  Grimes  grimly, 
"  out  with  it." 

Then  Rivers  related  his  story  of  the  Octagon  House; 
how  he  happened  in  there  accidentally  and  found  upon 
the  floor  a  bit  of  paper  with  the  red,  white,  and  blue 
cord,  the  few  written  words,  and  the  incriminating 
initials  in  the  corner.  The  pocket  of  Mr.  Grimes  grew 


284  THE    WIFE    OF 

suddenly  heavy  with  the  weight  of  a  scrap  of  paper 
picked  up  at  Mrs.  Redmond's  ball  and  tied  with  twisted, 
tri-colored  cord. 

"  I  searched  the  house,  of  course,"  he  remarked 
glibly;"  it's  an  eerie  old  place,  by  the  way.  It  was 
quite  empty,  though  bearing  traces  of  recent  occupation ; 
a  half-finished  drawing  in  an  upper  room  indicated  an 
intended  return.  I  shall,  of  course,  place  my  informa- 
tion in  the  hands  of  the  President ;  it  is  the  only  course 
open  to  me,  and  I  fancy  it  may  precipitate  matters  a  bit. 
However,  the  end  was  bound  to  come. ' ' 

"And  who,"  inquired  the  Member  from  South 
Dakota,  studiously  polite,  "  will  be  Secretary  of  State?" 

"  That,"  returned  the  Member  from  Virginia,  "  re- 
mains for  the  President  to  decide.  He  will  naturally 
select  one  in  sympathy  with  the  Administration." 

"Ah,"  remarked  Mr.  Grimes. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  then  Rivers  rose  and 
remarked  he  must  keep  an  appointment. 

"  It's  been  an  uncommonly  interesting  hour,"  he  said 
cordially,  "  and  I  believe  we  are  beginning  to  under- 
stand each  other  at  last.  We  both  have  the  good  of  the 
country  at  heart,  Mr.  Grimes,  and  I'm  glad  we  have 
arrived  at  a  better  appreciation  of  each  other  after  our 
many  differences.  They  didn't  amount  to  much  though, 
after  all,  did  they?  And  I  fancy  Miss  Byrd  won't  tol- 
erate them  in  the  future;  you  stand  very  high  in  her 
calendar  of  friends,  you  know,  and,  consequently,  I 
want  very  much  to  add  you  to  mine." 

The  Member  from  Virginia  had  a  decided  charm  of 
manner  when  he  chose  to  exert  it,  and  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  refer  to  the  existing  estrangement,  which 
he  believed  merely  temporary.  So  he  extended  his  hand 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          285 

as  he  rose  to  depart  with  the  smile  reserved  for  special 
occasions.  And  Mr.  Grimes  rose  also — small,  stout,  red- 
faced,  and  scowling.  His  hands  were  thrust  deep  down 
in  his  pockets  and  his  short  legs  planted  far  apart. 

"  The  understanding's  all  right,"  he  said  decidedly, 
' '  perhaps  even  more  so  than  you  realize.  I  don 't  know 
why  you  have  seen  fit  to  honor  me  with  these  extraor- 
dinary revelations — our  relations  are  not  exactly  confi- 
dential, you  know.  I  see  your  drift,  of  course,  and  I 
see  the  trend  of  affairs — worse  luck.  But  as  to  the  story 
you  told  me  about  Leigh  and  your  disinterested  devotion 
to  the  country,  why,  it's  due  to  you  as  well  as  myself  to 
tell  you  plainly  that  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  And 
so,  sir,  if  you  have  finished  your  lunch,  I  will  say  good- 
afternoon." 

With  which  concluding  remark  Mr.  Grimes  strode 
away  with  as  much  dignity  as  his  adipose  tissue  per- 
mitted, leaving  the  Member  from  Virginia  to  digest  his 
words  with  his  lunch,  and  get  what  nourishment  he 
could  from  both. 

Seething  with  righteous  indignation,  Mr.  Grimes  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Department  of  State  and  inquired  for  Mr. 
Leigh.  Mr.  Leigh  was  absent,  the  messenger  replied, 
and  the  date  of  his  return  was  uncertain.  Then,  could 
he  not  see  the  Secretary  himself?  The  messenger  re- 
gretted that  the  Secretary  was  indisposed  and  not  at 
the  Department  to-day.  Mr.  Leigh's  house  address; 
perhaps  they  would  oblige  him  with  it,  as  his  business 
was  important. 

The  messenger  would  inquire  of  the  Chief  Clerk ; 
probably  he  knew  it.  He  came  back  presently  with  a 
number  written  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  the  gratuitous 
information  that  Mr.  Leigh  was  out  of  the  city,  and 


286  THE    WIFE    OF 

therefore  any  visit  to  his  lodgings  would  be  without 
result. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Grimes  repaired  without  delay  to 
Mrs.  Colson's  domicile  and  inquired  for  the  lady  of  the 
house,  who  was  much  excited  by  the  receipt  of  the  card 
of  a  Member  of  Congress,  and  had  visions  of  renting  an 
entire  suite  at  an  exorbitant  price  as  she  ran  her  side- 
combs  through  her  hair  and  wished  she  had  put  on  her 
black  silk. 

' '  Madam, ' '  said  Mr.  Grimes  abruptly,  ' '  I  understand 
Mr.  Leigh  has  a  room  here. ' ' 

Mrs.  Colson  collapsed  into  a  chair,  her  dreams  of  ex- 
pensive suites  rapidly  evaporating. 

"  Mr.  Leigh  did  have  a  room  here,"  she  faltered, 
"  but  now— 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Grimes  irritably,  "  well,  Madam, 
has  he  moved?" 

Mrs.  Colson  clasped  her  hands  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
the  ceiling  after  the  manner  of  a  picture  in  her  bedroom 
she  much  admired  entitled,  "  Simply  to  Thy  Cross  I 
Cling." 

"Ah,"  she  said,  sighing  heavily,  "  Mr.  Leigh  has 
moved  indeed,  and  to  a  higher  sphere." 

Mr.  Grimes  sat  upright  in  startled  silence  as  she 
applied  the  edge  of  a  stiffly  starched  handkerchief  to 
her  nose  and  chafed  it  delicately. 

' '  When  is  the  funeral  ? ' '  inquired  the  Member  of 
Congress  in  a  hushed  whisper. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Colson  with  dignity,  "  there  has 
been  no  funeral,  nor  will  there  be.  I  spoke  to  you  from 
the  dictates  of  my  own  heart  and  not  from  the  mundane 
evidence  of  facts.  I  believe  that  the  unhappy  young 
man " 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         287 

"  Madam,"  interrupted  the  Member  of  Congress,  "  it 
is  facts  I  am  after.  It  is  of  no  consequence  which  way 
your  heart  dictates.  Does  Mr.  Leigh  retain  his  room 
with  you  ?  That  is  what  I  want  to  know. ' ' 

Mrs.  Colson  hesitated,  coughed  in  an  embarrassed 
manner,  and  finally  faltered  that  while  he  had  not  given 
it  up,  yet  he  had  been  absent  a  week  now  without  lug- 
gage of  any  sort,  and  no  one  knew  anything  about  him. 
It  was  natural  to  suppose  him  dead.  She  was  a  poor 
widow,  and —  In  short,  it  was  the  first  of  the  month 
and  Mr.  Leigh's  board  was  overdue;  she  felt  it  her 
duty,  much  as  she  liked  the  unhappy  young  man,  to 
reimburse  herself  by  disposing  of  his  effects  very  shortly 
and  finding  another  tenant  for  the  room. 

"  Painful  as  such  a  course  would  be  to  one  of  my 
natural  refinement,"  she  continued  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I 
feel  I  can  no  longer  hesitate.  The  widow,  sir,  who 
struggles  for  her  daily  bread  cannot  follow  the  course 
her  gentle  birth  would  counsel,  she  must  provide  for 
the  future." 

"Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Grimes  concisely,  taking  out  his 
purse;  "  now,  how  much  did  he  owe  for  this  precious 
room?" 

Mrs.  Colson  unhesitatingly  named  a  price  ten  dollars 
in  excess  of  the  actual  amount  and  watched  the  Con- 
gressman count  out  the  bills  one  by  one,  while  she 
wiped  her  eyes  with  the  immaculate  handkerchief. 

"  Now,"  said  that  gentleman,  handing  over  the 
money,  "  I  engage  that  room,  furnished  just  as  it  is, 
with  nothing  touched  or  moved,  to  use  when  I  feel  in- 
clined and  to  let  stand  empty  if  I  choose.  And  I  desire 
to  take  immediate  possession.  Will  you  kindly  show 
the  way?" 


288  THE    WIFE    OF 

Mrs.  Colson  said  afterwards,  when  relating  the  inci- 
dent to  Miss  Jackson,  that  she  supposed  she  ought  to 
have  waited  until  she  looked  him  up  in  the  Congres- 
sional Directory,  but  really  he  was  such  a  domineering 
old  man  and  had  such  a  decided  way  about  him  that 
before  she  knew  it  she  had  escorted  him  up  into  the 
north  room  and  left  him  there  alone. 

"And  you  know,"  she  added  plaintively,  "  we  might 
have  all  been  murdered  in  our  beds. ' ' 

And  Miss  Jackson  had  replied  reflectively  that  she 
would  very  much  like  to  have  a  look  at  him.  Perhaps 
he  was  a  millionaire  uncle  of  Mr.  Leigh's,  or  perhaps  a 
bank  burglar  hiding  from  justice.  Anything  was  pos- 
sible in  these  days. 

Alone  in  David's  little  room  the  Member  of  Congress 
began  a  systematic  search  for  any  paper  or  letter  which 
might  throw  light  upon  his  mysterious  disappearance. 

"  I  don't  like  to  pry  into  his  private  affairs,"  he 
muttered  as  he  sat  down  before  the  desk,  "  but  some- 
body's got  to  look  after  him." 

The  Member  of  Congress  hesitated  to  turn  the  key 
which  stood  ready  in  the  lock,  and  fell  into  a  brown 
study  in  the  uncomfortable  little  chair,  several  sizes  too 
small  for  him.  At  last  he  roused  himself  abruptly. 

"  Rivers,  Secretary  of  State,"  he  said,  as  he  opened 
the  desk ;  ' '  not  if  Joshua  Grimes  is  as  smart  as  he  used 
to  be.  Now,  my  boy,  we'll  see." 

But  he  found  nothing  he  could  regard  as  a  clue  to 
Leigh's  disappearance,  and  finally  took  up  a  newspaper 
which  lay  on  the  floor,  apparently  undisturbed  since  it 
had  been  flung  aside.  It  bore  the  date  of  December 
26th,  and  one  spot  was  creased  and  rumpled  as  though 
crushed  by  an  impatient  hand.  Carefully  adjusting  his 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          289 

glasses,  Mr.  Grimes  read  the  items  of  the  society  column 
so  unkindly  treated  and  found  there  the  bald  state- 
ment that  Senator  Byrd  announced  the  engagement  of 
his  daughter  Isabel  to  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers,  Member 
of  Congress  from  Virginia. 

Mr.  Grimes  smoothed  out  and  carefully  folded  the 
paper,  then  returned  to  the  desk  before  him.  Opening 
a  little  drawer  he  had  overlooked  in  his  previous  re- 
search, he  discovered  a  package  of  notes,  addressed  in 
a  hand  with  which  he  himself  was  quite  familiar  as 
well  as  with  the  coat-of-arms  upon  the  seal;  beside  the 
notes  was  a  faded  rose  and  beneath  them  both  a  white 
glove,  carefully  folded  and  laid  away. 

The  Member  from  South  Dakota  shut  the  little 
drawer  with  remorseful  haste;  he  felt  he  had  in  some 
way  desecrated  a  shrine. 

'The  poor  lad!"  he  ejaculated,  softly,  "the  poor 
lad!" 


10 


290  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXX 


WITH  the  dawn  of  morning  came  returning  conscious- 
ness to  Colonel  St.  John. 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  with  dazed,  bewildered 
eyes  at  the  chair  with  its  few  dingy  bottles,  at  the  stove, 
now  cold  and  odorless,  and  at  the  glove  still  clinched 
in  his  hand.  His  first  sensation  was  one  of  physical 
discomfort  as  he  stretched  out  his  fingers,  moving  them 
with  difficulty,  for  they  were  numb  with  the  cold.  There 
was  a  strange,  light  feeling  in  his  head,  while  a  heavy 
weight  seemed  to  have  settled  upon  his  chest.  Had  he 
been  ill? 

The  glove  fell  from  his  nerveless  hand,  and  he  picked 
it  up  stiffly,  looking  absently  about  for  its  mate.  The 
sight  of  it  was  distasteful  to  him.  He  wondered  why ; 
it  was  a  very  ordinary  glove. 

He  felt  dimly  that  something  was  lacking  from  the 
bare  little  room;  something  had  vanished  which  should 
have  been  present,  and  shrank  from  the  emptiness,  op- 
pressed by  the  heaviness  of  space.  Why  was  he  on  the 
floor? 

Colonel  St.  John  struggled  to  rise  and  essayed  to  walk, 
but  his  feet  seemed  reluctant  to  perform  their  duty  and 
he  tottered  uncertainly,  catching  at  the  wall  to  preserve 
his  balance.  He  must  hurry,  that  thought  was  para- 
mount, for  he  was  going  somewhere  and  it  was  time  he 
was  off. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          291 

Resting  his  forehead  against  the  window-pane,  thick 
with  the  dust  of  many  seasons,  he  looked  through  the 
broken  shutter  out  into  the  dull  gray  of  the  winter's 
morning.  Far  in  the  distance  across  the  Mall  he  saw 
the  black  smoke  curling  upward  from  an  engine  cross- 
ing the  Potomac.  Why,  certainly,  he  knew  now.  He 
was  going  away  somewhere.  He  must  hurry  or  he  would 
be  too  late.  His  hat  and  coat — where  were  they?  He 
must  hasten. 

Stumbling  blindly  forward,  he  made  his  way  into  the 
hall  and  down  the  stairs,  clutching  at  the  banisters  for 
support  and  making  all  possible  speed. 

"I'll  be  late,"  he  said,  "late.  The  train  won't 
wait." 

Suddenly  he  paused,  with  shaking  knees  and  ashen 
face.  Directly  in  his  path  lay  the  mattress.  He  recog- 
nized the  rip  in  the  side,  and  with  recognition  came  a 
flood  of  memory,  unwelcome,  obtrusive,  and  overwhelm- 
ing. The  old  man  stood  as  one  petrified.  At  last  he 
raised  his  hand  and  pointed  a  trembling  finger  at  the 
mattress  at  his  feet. 

"  It's  empty,"  he  cried  shrilly,  "  empty." 

And  the  house  reverberated  with  the  sound  of  his 
voice. 

"  Empty,"  returned  the  rooms  and  passages  of  the 
lower  floor. 

' '  Empty, ' '  echoed  down  the  stairway  from  the  vacant 
space  above. 

Colonel  St.  John  uttered  an  inarticulate  sound  and 
fled  up  the  stairs,  away  from  the  mattress  with  its  un- 
pleasant suggestiveness.  At  the  entrance  to  his  room 
he  stepped  upon  something  soft  and  recoiled  violently. 
It  was  only  the  glove  he  had  dropped  as  he  started  to 


292  THE    WIFE    OF 

leave  the  house — Lyndhurst's  glove.  He  remembered 
it  now. 

"  Broad  day,"  he  said  as  the  sun  cast  a  sickly  ray 
through  the  broken  shutter,  "  broad  day,  and  no  doubt 
a  watch  set  upon  the  house." 

The  old  man  sank  into  the  chair  beside  the  table  and 
rested  his  head  upon  the  unfinished  drawing.  Now  and 
then  he  shivered  and  glanced  towards  the  daylight  and 
freedom  outside  the  dusty  glass. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  motionless,  *  oblivious  to  the 
gradually  increasing  cold.  He  entertained  no  doubt 
that  Leigh  was  dead — and  the  punishment  for  murder 
was  hanging.  Colonel  St.  John  felt  in  his  pocket  and 
produced  a  small  vial,  removed  the  cork,  and  sniffed 
at  the  contents.  It  was  nearly  full.  Had  he  the 
strength  to  put  it  to  his  lips?  Very  slowly  he  replaced 
the  cork  and  returned  the  vial  to  his  pocket.  It  is  when 
life  is  most  filled  with  darkness  and  terror  that  mankind 
appears  to  cling  to  it  most  tenaciously,  perhaps  through 
some  idea  of  future  reparation,  perhaps  through  dread 
of  the  unknown. 

The  day  wore  on.  Colonel  St.  John  felt  the  chill  and 
cold  of  the  place  reaching  his  heart  and  looked  long- 
ingly at  the  kerosene-stove  and  the  full  oil-can  in  the 
corner.  Dared  he  light  it? 

"  It  smells,"  he  said,  seeking  some  other  means  of 
warmth ;  ' '  the  damn  thing  smells. ' ' 

Wrapping  himself  in  a  blanket  from  the  cot,  he  waited 
for  the  day  to  pass.  His  watch  had  stopped  and  he  had 
no  means  of  marking  the  time,  but  each  minute  seemed 
a  lifetime  and  the  hours  spread  themselves  into  eternity. 
Was  this  a  day? 

It  chanced  that  no  curious  visitors  investigated  the 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          293 

old  house,  and  he  thought  resentfully  that  it  must  there- 
fore surely  be  under  police  surveillance. 

Sooner  or  later  he  must  be  discovered,  or  die  from 
cold  and  starvation.  Colonel  St.  John  again  felt  in  his 
pocket  and  his  fingers  touched  the  small  vial,  lingering 
thoughtfully  a  moment,  and  were  then  rapidly  with- 
drawn. 

It  is  given  to  some  men  to  drink  of  the  cup  of  dissi- 
pation while  it  bubbles  with  pleasure,  sparkles  with 
brilliancy,  and  intoxicates  with  the  exhilaration  of  suc- 
cess, then  to  pause  and  watch  the  bubbles  fade,  the 
sparkle  disappear,  and  the  exhilaration  pass  away, 
leaving  in  its  place  flatness  and  a  distaste  for  further 
draughts  of  like  character.  Others,  however,  drink 
thirstily,  draining  it  to  the  last  drop  and  finding  in  its 
bitter  dregs  the  fire  of  sorrow  and  the  ashes  of  humil- 
iation. 

Colonel  St.  John,  dumbly  expecting  he  knew  not  what, 
realized  he  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  cup  and  cursed 
the  day  he  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

He  did  more.  He  cursed  the  life  he  had  lived  and 
the  life  to  come;  the  father  who  begot  him  and  the 
mother  who  gave  him  birth.  He  cursed  the  day  he  came 
to  America,  the  night  Count  Valdmir  sought  him  at 
Jackson  City,  and  the  work  he  had  done  for  the  Russian 
since  that  date.  It  was  he  who  held  him — Albert  St. 
John — in  a  grip  of  iron,  and  who  had  indirectly  brought 
about  the  impending  crisis.  The  old  man  looked  at  his 
shaking  hand  and  wished  it  might  have  withered  before 
it  drew  the  plans  his  master  demanded. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  and  his  lip  lifted  in  an  unpleas- 
ant smile.  Opening  a  drawer  in  the  table  he  produced 
them,  one  after  another.  To-day  he  was  to  have  deliv- 


294  THE    WIFE    OF 

ered  them.  Eapidly  he  looked  them  over;  they  were 
complete  in  every  detail  except  the  one  upon  the  table 
yet  unfinished,  and  which  he  added  to  the  collection, 
tearing  it  from  beneath  the  thumb  tacks  viciously,  as 
though  anxious  to  deface  it  as  much  as  possible. 

Colonel  St.  John,  the  bundle  under  his  arm,  again 
sought  the  lower  floor,  going  down  deeper  still,  into  the 
basement,  with  its  brick  vaults,  and  into  the  old  kitchen, 
with  the  great  stone  fireplace  occupying  one  end  and 
looking  capable  of  generous  hospitality  had  it  been  so 
disposed. 

In  the  fireplace  he  deposited  his  burden,  checking  the 
papers  off  one  by  one  with  satisfaction.  They  com- 
prised the  defences  of  the  principal  seaports  of  the 
country  and  were  traced  with  no  small  skill  and  accu- 
racy. There  were  also  papers  of  explanation  accom- 
panying them  and  other  data  of  importance  to  the  Gov- 
ernment. 

He  produced  a  match  and  struck  it  on  the  hearth- 
stone ;  it  flickered  and  would  not  burn ;  but-  he  struck 
another,  shielding  it  with  his  hand  and  nursing  the  flame 
carefully,  for  it  was  his  last.  The  match  flamed  up 
quickly  and  went  out,  leaving  the  cellar  dark  and 
clammy  with  the  penetrating  damp. 

Back  again,  up  the  stairs  to  his  room.  He  would  get 
another  match.  So  full  of  one  idea  was  the  old  man 
that  he  almost  forgot  the  reason  for  the  act  or  the 
motive  actuating  the  desire  for  revenge  upon  Count 
Valdmir,  but  the  sight  of  the  mattress  in  the  lower  hall 
again  brought  with  it  the  flood  of  memory. 

It  was  murder  for  which  he  was  being  hunted,  and  the 
punishment  was  hanging. 

Colonel  St.  John  forgot  the  papers  in  the  fireplace; 


THE    SECRETARY   OF    STATE         295 

forgot  Count  Valdmir  and  the  desire  for  revenge,  re- 
membering only  David  Leigh  and  Lyndhurst.  Lynd- 
hurst,  who  had  that  other  life  also  checked  against  him, 
and  who  had  left  his  glove  in  token  that  he  would 
return. 

Faint  and  sick  from  cold  and  lack  of  food,  Colonel 
St.  John  cowered  beneath  the  blanket  and  watched  the 
fading  of  the  light  through  the  broken  shutter.  Now 
and  then  a  board  creaked  loudly  and  he  shrank  further 
into  the  corner,  expecting  the  opening  of  the  door ;  now 
and  then  a  rat  ran  across  the  attic  overhead,  squealing 
in  angry  dispute  with  its  fellows;  and  now  and  then 
came  other  sounds — faint  rustlings  and  indistinct  mur- 
murs like  the  sighing  of  the  wind. 

"A  rat  in  a  trap,"  he  said,  "  taken  like  vermin  to 
be  exterminated." 

He  felt  for  the  little  vial  and  drew  it  out. 

The  light  grew  dimmer  and  failed  entirely.  Another 
day  gone ;  another  night  arrived. 

"  Die  like  a  man,"  counselled  an  inner  voice,  "  not 
like  a  felon.  It's  got  to  come.  Die  like  a  man." 

"  It's  got  to  come,"  he  repeated. 

The  end  of  all  things,  the  leap  in  the  dark;  the  put- 
ting away  of  mortality  and  assuming  immortality.  Yes, 
it  had  to  come.  It  had  come  through  him  to  David 
Leigh  and  to  Hertford. 

It  had  also  come,  strangely,  mysteriously,  with  in- 
credible swiftness  to  another — a  woman.  There  had 
been  a  vacancy  in  the  harem  of  the  Khedive  and  no 
questions  asked.  A  favorite  had  vanished — such  things 
had  happened  before;  Colonel  St.  John  had  vanished 
also,  taking  with  him  the  opals.  The  game  had  been 
d;i  11  serous  and  the  price  high. 


296  THE    WIFE    OF 

Well,  since  it  came  some  time  or  other  to  everyone, 
why  should  a  little  sooner  or  later  matter?  And  Hert- 
ford did  it  himself  with  a  pistol.  Colonel  St.  John 
wished  he  had  a  pistol.  It  was  so  soon  over. 

"  Like  a  man,"  he  said,  raising  the  vial.  "  I  was  a 
man  once." 

The  little  bottle  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  splintering  of 
glass  as  Colonel  St.  John  drew  the  blanket  closer  and 
prepared  to  wait. 

There  were  noises  again,  but  they  did  not  trouble 
him;  the  boards  creaked  and  the  rats  squealed  unob- 
served, for  out  of  the  darkness  shadowy  figures  ap- 
proached and  bent  over  him,  the  room  was  alive  with 
voices  long  silent,  and  Colonel  St.  John  listened  to  them 
dreamily.  They  were  very  welcome,  and  he  tried  to  tell 
them  so,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  His  head 
swam  and  his  limbs  felt  numb. 

' '  I  believe, ' '  he  said  politely,  "  it 's  very  rude,  I  know, 
but  I  believe  I  will  take  a  nap." 

The  night  crept  on.  Again  the  moon  rose  and  flooded 
the  city  with  its  white  light.  In  the  midst  of  the  old 
garden  a  figure  stood  irresolute — a  woman,  who  held 
her  cloak  tightly,  clutching  it  convulsively,  as  though 
she  found  comfort  in  its  warmth  and  wished  to  wrap 
it  even  closer  around  her  slender  form.  Now  and  then 
she  advanced  a  few  steps  with  many  an  apprehensive 
glance  towards  the  upper  windows  of  the  grim  old 
house.  At  last  the  garden  was  crossed  and  she  put  a 
trembling  hand  upon  the  rusty  latch. 

At  the  same  instant  the  front  door  opened  and  shut 
with  a  quick  decision  very  different  from  the  hesitating 
creaking  of  the  hinges  of  its  companion  in  the  rear. 

The  odor  of  cigar-smoke  filled  the  hall  and  a  man's 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          297 

voice  muttered  something  as  he  paused  to  strike  a  match. 
The  woman  leaned  against  the  wall,  her  hands  extended 
in  the  darkness. 

"I'm  too  late,"  she  said,  "  too  late." 

Suddenly  she  gathered  her  skirts  together,  set  her 
teeth  firmly,  and  began  the  ascent  of  the  old  back  stairs, 
feeling  her  way  timidly,  but  moving  swiftly  with  the 
decision  of  definite  purpose. 

It  was  a  race  now  between  the  man  and  woman,  for 
he  also  walked  with  the  directness  of  one  familiar  with 
the  objective  point,  up  the  front  stairs,  past  the  window 
on  the  landing  looking  out  over  the  moonlit  garden,  past 
the  second  floor,  with  its  open  doors  leading  into  vacant 
rooms  eloquent  in  their  silence,  and  up  again  to  the 
third  floor.  Upon  the  landing  he  paused,  for  his  quick 
ears  caught  a  sound  unexpected  and  apparently  discon- 
certing, and  the  hand  extended  towards  the  caretaker's 
door  hesitated  as  he  drew  farther  into  the  shadow. 

She  had  reached  the  top  now,  and  stepped  out  into 
the  upper  hall  with  a  gasp  of  mingled  fear  and  relief. 
The  darkness  of  the  back  stairs  had  been  black  indeed, 
and  light  of  any  kind  was  preferable.  The  hood  of  her 
cloak  had  fallen  back  and  a  ray  of  moonlight  shone  upon 
her  upturned  face,  steadfast  in  its  purpose  and  pitiful 
in  its  unconscious  appeal.  It  touched  the  flashing  jewel 
in  her  hair,  her  brow,  her  cheeks,  her  quivering  lips, 
but  left  in  the  shadow  of  the  black  lashes  blue  eyes  dark 
with  pain  and  misty  with  unshed  tears. 

"  Estelle,"  he  cried,  "  you?  Here  alone.  What  does 
this  mean?" 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "  it  was  you.  I  did  not  know.  I 
heard — someone. ' ' 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  repeated. 


298  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  I  came,"  she  replied,  indicating  the  inner  room  by 
a  motion  of  her  hand,  ' '  to  bring  him  money,  to  help  him 
get  away.  I  waited  until  night  because  the  darkness 
was  safer  for  him." 

"  You  are  in  evening  dress?" 

' '  I  came  from  the  British  Embassy, ' '  she  said  simply, 
"  I  went  there  to-night  alone;  it  was  easy  to  get  away, 
and  required  no  explanations.  But  you — why  are  you 
here?" 

His  face  darkened  ominously. 

"  I  came,"  he  said  grimly,  "  to  threaten.  He  has 
tricked  me  with  a  bundle  of  useless  papers,  and  has  in 
his  possession  others  of  value  to  me.  I  came  to  claim 
my  property." 

The  caretaker's  door  swung  slowly  open,  propelled  by 
an  invisible  force.  Back  it  went,  back  against  the  wall, 
exposing  the  bare  little  room  with  the  figure  of  the  old 
man  wrapped  in  his  quilt  upon  the  floor. 

With  an  irrepressible  shudder  Estelle  clutched  the 
Russian's  arm. 

"  Who  opened  it?"  she  whispered,  "  who — opened 
it?" 

Colonel  St.  John  stirred  uneasily.  He  felt  he  must, 
for  some  reason,  make  an  effort,  so  he  opened  his  eyes 
unwillingly  and  did  not  at  once  close  them.  The  room 
was  lighted  by  a  candle,  and  he  even  thought  he  detected 
the  odor  of  a  kerosene-stove,  but  he  was  in  Berlin  at  his 
salon,  so  that  was  impossible.  Count  Valdmir  had  pro- 
duced the  candle  and  endeavored  to  induce  the  stove  to 
burn,  but  such  details  mattered  not  to  Colonel  St.  John. 
He  must  greet  the  lady  in  the  shining  satin  gown. 

' '  How  do  you  do,  Madame, ' '  he  remarked  feebly,  ' '  I 
am  delighted  you  were  able  to  be  with  us." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          299 

"  Father,"  she  cried,  "  don't  you  know  me?  It's 
Estelle." 

"  Estelle?"  he  repeated  vaguely,  "  yes,  Estelle." 

Then  he  suddenly  sat  upright  and  clutched  her  hand. 

"  I  must  get  away,"  he  said  rapidly,  "  clear  away. 
Estelle,  my  dear,  it's  murder.  For  God's  sake  help  me. 
Give  me  money.  It's  murder,  I  tell  you — murder,  and 
a  St.  John  was  never  hung." 

"  No,  father,  no,"  she  said  soothingly,  "he  is  alive. 
Mr.  Leigh  is  not  dead,  but  he's  very  ill.  I've  come  to 
bring  you  money  and  to  help  you. ' ' 

His  features  contracted  and  he  fell  back  helpless. 

"  The  pain,"  he  gasped,  "  the  pain.  I'm  dying, 
Estelle,  dying." 

"  Quick,"  she  said  imperatively  over  her  shoulder, 
' '  a  doctor ;  I  must  have  a  doctor. ' ' 

But  Count  Valdmir  shook  his  head.  He  held  in  his 
hand  the  fragments  of  the  broken  vial,  upon  one  of 
which  the  label  was  distinct.  m 

1  Too  late,"  he  said  quietly,  "  the  poison  has  done 
its  work  and  all  the  doctors  in  the  universe  could  not 
help  him  now.  In  a  few  minutes  the  paroxysm  will  be 
over  and  he  will  not  suffer.  By  and  by  they  will  be 
more  frequent,  his  mind  will  wander,  and  then  will 
come  the  end. ' ' 

"And  I  came  to  warn  him,"  she  said  bitterly,  "  to 
help  him — too  late;  like  all  my  good  deeds — too  late. 
Bring  a  doctor,  I  demand  it.  He  may  be  able  to  give 
some  relief." 

But  the  Russian  did  not  move. 

'  I  know  the  poison  well, ' '  he  returned  coolly ;  "I 
have  seen  men  die  of  it  before.  I  will  not  leave  you  to 
fetch  a  doctor  here ;  I  will  not  have  you  associated  with 


300  THE    WIFE    OF 

this  scandal.  See,  he  is  better.  He  wants  to  speak  with 
you." 

She  knelt  upon  the  floor  and  pressed  the  gray  head 
to  her  breast;  quite  suddenly  she  remembered  some 
childish  ailment  when  he  had  carried  her,  restless  and 
feverish,  from  room  to  room,  soothing  and  cheering  her 
with  the  patience  of  a  woman. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  father." 

"  I  drank  it,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  I  wanted  to  die  like 
a  man,  Estelle — like  a  man." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  brokenly,  "  yes." 

"  You'll  be  safe  from  me  in  future,"  he  continued, 
"  quite  safe,  Estelle.  I  have  not  been  a  good  father. 
But  I  was  proud  of  you,  my  dear." 

He  paused  and  his  eye  fell  upon  the  Russian,  who  ad- 
vanced slowly. 

"  Is  that  Count  Valdmir?"  he  demanded.  "  Have 
nothing  to  do  with  him,  Estelle.  He 's  a  dangerous  man 
— hard  and  cruel.  He 's  brought  me  to  this ;  he  '11  bring 
you  to  worse.  In  Russia  there  are  women 

Again  his  features  contracted  and  he  sank  back  with 
a  groan.  Count  Valdmir  bent  over  him  and  put  his 
finger  on  his  wrist. 

"  The  pulse  is  weak,"  he  remarked,  "  his  eyes  are 
dim.  He  will  not  suffer  much  more." 

"  Estelle,"  whispered  the  old  man  faintly,  "  he  must 
not  have  them,  the  papers ;  I  put  them — are  you  there, 
Estelle  ? — the  plans  of  fortifications,  you  know.  He  shall 
not  have  them,  I  put  them — 

"  Yes,"  she  said  anxiously,  "  yes,  father,  where?" 

"  The  old  fireplace,"  he  gasped,  "  in  the  basement. 
The  match  went  out — ah,  the  pain!" 

"It  is  over,"  she  said  sadly. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          301 

But  the  heavy  lids  lifted  again  and  the  eyes  stared 
fixedly  at  the  naming  opal  at  her  throat. 

"  The  price  of  blood,"  he  cried,  raising  a  shaking 
hand,  "  the  price  of  blood.  Take  them  off! — take  them 
off!" 

Instinctively  her  hand  covered  the  jewel  and  she 
shrank  back  alarmed.  As  she  did  so  Colonel  St.  John 
sat  upright  and  assumed  the  attitude  of  one  who  ad- 
dresses a  large  assembly. 

"Awful  fool,"  he  said  with  his  best  society  manner; 
"  had  a  life  and  made  a  mess  of  it.  Damn  fool — won't 
do  it  again." 

He  paused  and  smiled  in  a  conciliatory  manner. 

"  I  apologize,"  he  said.  "  Done  a  lot  of  mischief. 
Made  a  lot  of  trouble.  Quiet  now — I  apologize." 

The  Russian  darted  forward  and  caught  the  swaying 
body. 

"  It  is  the  end, ' '  he  said  gently. 


302  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXXI 


THE  passing  of  a  soul  is  fraught  with  mystery. 
Before  it  the  callous  stand  silent  and  abashed,  the  reck- 
less pause  with  involuntary  awe,  the  timid  shrink  with 
sinking  hearts,  and  all  unite  in  a  moment  of  breathless 
apprehension,  wondering  when  they  in  turn  shall  pass 
into  the  darkness  of  the  great  Beyond. 

And  what  has  gone?  The  form  of  man  remains; 
motionless  certainly,  but  then  are  not  the  sleeping  quiet  ? 
Therefore,  why  approach  reluctantly?  It  is  the  same 
for  whom,  a  brief  moment  ago,  we  felt  affection  or  dis- 
like, admiration  or  pity,  respect  or  contempt.  The 
same,  yet  not  the  same.  King  Death  reigns  supreme  in 
his  impenetrable  silence,  and  the  children  of  men  abase 
themselves  before  him. 

So  Count  Valdmir  bared  his  head  respectfully  before 
Colonel  St.  John,  as  though  acknowledging  the  presence 
of  his  superior. 

Overhead  in  the  attic  the  rats  held  high  carnival ; 
outside  the  wind  swept  across  the  snow-covered  garden 
and  around  the  corners  of  the  house,  shaking  the  win- 
dow-frames and  causing  strange,  whispering  noises  to 
echo  down  the  chimneys  and  through  the  vacant  halls; 
and  in  the  bare  little  upper  room  the  man  and  woman 
stood  speechless  before  IT. 

"  Come,"  he  said  gently  at  last,  "  we  must  go." 

But  Mrs.  Redmond  did  not  answer.     She  was  on  her 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          303 

knees,  chafing  the  hands  which  grew  cold  beneath  her 
touch. 

"  Come,"  he  repeated,  "  you  can  do  no  good." 

She  rose  reluctantly,  while  he  bent  over  the  inanimate 
form  and  removed  the  contents  of  the  pockets.  They 
held  only  a  few  unimportant  letters  and  a  shabby  leather 
case,  which  he  opened. 

"  This,"  he  said  gently,  "  belongs  to  you." 

Estelle  glanced  at  the  woman's  face,  with  its  wistful 
sadness,  and  at  the  laughing  baby  beside  it. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  passionately,  "  he  loved  us! 
He  must  have  loved  us!" 

The  hot  tears  welled  into  her  eyes  as  she  stooped  and 
pressed  her  lips  to  the  unresponsive  ones  upon  the 
floor. 

"  I  cannot  leave  him  here  alone,"  she  said,  "  he  was 
my  father." 

The  Russian  looked  at  his  watch  by  the  light  of  the 
candle. 

"  Time  passes,"  he  said,  "  it  is  later  than  I  thought. 
We  must  not  stay  here.  I  will  put  money  in  his  pocket 
to  insure  a  decent  burial." 

' '  No,  no, ' '  she  interrupted,  ' '  that  is  for  me  to  do.  I 
brought  him  money." 

"As  you  please,"  he  responded  briefly.  "  Come 
away. ' ' 

But  Colonel  St.  John's  daughter  lingered,  bending  to 
kiss  the  cold  forehead  and  turning  on  the  threshold  for 
a  last  look  at  the  still  figure. 

"  I  am  his  child,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  love  him — 
but  I  am  his  child." 

She  followed  the  Russian  down  the  curved  stairway, 
past  the  silent  rooms,  and  into  the  lower  hall. 


304  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  she  said  sharply  as  he 
turned  aside. 

"  I  am  going,"  he  replied,  "  to  investigate  the  fire- 
place in  the  kitchen.  Will  you  come?" 

The  candle  made  but  a  feeble  gleam  of  light  in  the 
dark  cellar,  where  the  dampness  hung  in  drops  upon 
walls  and  ceiling  and  the  floor  was  slippery  to  walk 
upon. 

Count  Valdmir  stooped  over  the  fireplace  and  exam- 
ined the  contents. 

"  The  fire  is  laid,"  he  remarked  shortly. 

"  Be  quick,"  she  said  imperatively,  "  do  whatever 
you  will  with  them.  I  cannot  stay  here.  The  air 
smothers  me." 

The  Russian  put  the  candle  upon  the  floor  and  turned 
to  his  companion.  His  face  was  white  and  set  and  the 
hand  which  placed  the  candle  shook  until  the  grease 
ran  down  upon  it. 

"  It  is  for  you  to  say  what  I  shall  do  with  them,"  he 
said,  ' '  for  you  to  say. ' ' 

"  For  me?"  she  repeated,  "  for  me?" 

"  I  have  waited,"  he  said  quietly,  "  for  a  message 
from — the  Countess  Valdmir.  She  was  to  notify  me 
when  to  expect  her.  I  wonder,"  he  advanced  a  step 
nearer,  "  I  wonder  why  she  is  so  silent. 

' '  The  castles  beyond  the  steppes, ' '  he  continued,  * '  are 
waiting  for  their  mistress.  There  are  empty  rooms  ready 
for  the  touch  of  a  woman's  hand,  carved  stairways 
wearying  for  the  tread  of  a  woman's  foot,  and  marble 
corridors  longing  for  the  echo  of  a  woman's  voice. 
There  is  peace,  Estelle,  safety,  happiness,  and  boundless 
love  for  you  with  me,  and  the  castles  themselves  will 
prove  palaces  of  enchantment  for  us  both." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          305 

"  Or  prisons  of  Siberia,"  she  interrupted. 

' '  Love ! ' '  she  continued  contemptuously.  ' '  What  do 
you  know  of  love?  Passion,  perhaps,  strange  and  inex- 
plicable, but  not,  not  love.  Love  is  patient,  long-suffer- 
ing, and  unselfish;  tender,  enduring,  and  wonderfully 
comforting.  Oh,  I  know.  My  husband  loves  me,  but 
you 

"  Count  Valdmir, "  she  continued  as  he  turned  ab- 
ruptly away,  "  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  am  listening." 

Mrs.  Redmond,  howrever,  seemed  to  find  articulation 
difficult,  for  she  made  several  ineffectual  efforts  to  speak. 

"  Look  at  me,"  she  said  at  last,  "  and  tell  me  what 
you  see." 

"  I  see,"  he  replied  slowly,  "  God's  most  wonderful 
work, — the  blessing  or  the  curse  of  man, — a  beautiful 
woman. ' ' 

"  Yes,  a  woman,"  she  returned,  "  beautiful,  you  call 
her,  and  the  work  of  God.  You  are  wrong,  Count.  He 
is  not  responsible  for  this  woman,  although  He  created 
the  child  in  the  image  which  seemed  best  to  Him.  She 
is  the  result  of  man's  handiwork — first  a  coward  and 
then  a  thief." 

"  Estelle!" 

"Is  it  not  true?  A  coward  before  your  threats  and 
stooping  even  to  obey  your  commands.  Does  not  your 
course  resemble  blackmail,  Count,  and  is  it  much  more 
creditable  than  that  of  my  father,  from  whom  you  so 
bravely  defended  me?  He  wished  money  for  his  daily 
needs ;  you  desired  the  glory  of  a  masterstroke  in  the 
world  of  diplomacy,  and  I  was  the  most  convenient  tool 
for  you  both — I.  Oh,  let  us  go.  I  do  not  know  why  I 
came  down  here  with  you.  I  am  afraid." 

20 


306  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  You  came,"  he  interposed  gently,  "  because  you 
trusted  me — because  your  heart  instinctively  responds 
to  mine.  Ah,  it  is  so,  Estelle.  Do  not  shrink  from  me ; 
do  not  be  afraid.  Through  your  life  and  mine  runs  an 
undercurrent  drawing  us  irresistibly  together.  It  is 
deep,  unfathomable,  and  very  strong.  It  leads — 

"  Into  darkness,"  she  interrupted,  "  into  a  bottomless 
pit  of  misery." 

"  How  pale  you  are,  my  love,  and  how  your  opals 
glow.  Is  it  because  the  heart  beneath  them  is  so  restless 
and  ill  at  ease?" 

' '  Restless  indeed, ' '  she  said,  ' '  and  very  ill  at  ease. ' ' 

The  candle  flickered  in  the  draught  from  the  chimney 
and  the  papers  in  the  fireplace  rustled  impatiently. 

"It  is  time  to  end  the  farce,"  she  resumed  slowly. 
"  Take  the  maps,  Count  Valdmir;  I  am  powerless  to 
prevent  it.  They  are  yours,  and  no  doubt  you  paid 
well  for  them.  But  even  then  your  chain  is  not  com- 
plete. I  went  to  my  husband's  office  at  your  command 
and  stole  the  Roostchook  papers — the  price  you  set 
upon  my  happiness.  I  even  started  to  meet  you  here 
and  give  them  into  your  hands,  but  I  lost  them,  thank 
God!  I  lost  them.  No,  do  not  speak;  I  have  more  to 
say. 

"  I  took  the  synopsis,  also,  because  I  wished  to  pre- 
serve this  happiness  of  mine  at  any  cost,  but  by  degrees 
I  saw  what  I  had  done.  I  brought  the  cloud  of  dishonor 
to  darken  the  life  of  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and 
when  I  realized  what  that  meant  to  him  I  determined 
to  remove  it  at  any  price.  I  even  offered  myself  in  ex- 
change for  your  ill-gained  knowledge.  I  played  with 
you,  Count  Valdmir,  to  gain  time,  as  you  would  have 
done  with  me  had  our  positions  been  reversed,  and  you 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          307 

did  not  get  the  synopsis.  To-night  before  I  came  away 
I  put  it  in  my  husband's  desk  where  he  cannot  fail  to 
find  it,  because  I  did  not  know  what  might  happen  to 
me,  and  because  I  have  reached  a  conclusion  as  to 
what  is  best  for  me  to  do — best  for  him,  I  mean." 

Count  Valdmir  made  an  effort  to  speak,  but  she  raised 
her  hand,  commanding  silence. 

"And  so,"  she  continued,  her  voice  trembling  uncon- 
trollably, "  because  I  love  the  very  ground  my  husband 
walks  upon,  but  seem  fated  to  bring  only  suffering  upon 
him — I,  who  would  gladly  die  for  him  if  it  were  possible, 
because  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice  myself  that  his  reputa- 
tion may  be  untarnished,  I  am  going  away  from  him 
forever.  But  not  with  you,  Count  Valdmir.  You  will 
return  alone  to  the  castles  beyond  the  steppes,  the  pal- 
aces of  enchantment,  the  prisons  of  Siberia." 

The  wind  swept  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  down 
the  chimney,  through  the  old  kitchen  and  into  the  cellar 
beyond,  almost  extinguishing  the*  candle  upon  the 
hearth. 

"  I  am  cold,"  she  said  with  a  shiver  as  the  papers 
rustled  in  the  fireplace. 

"  Those  papers,  Estelle,"  he  said,  "  are  of  inestimable 
value  to  my  country.  They  contain  data  which  for 
years  it  has  endeavored  to  procure — plans,  maps,  and 
other  information  priceless  not  only  in  connection  with 
the  Roostchook  matter.  Securing  them  was  the  greatest 
triumph  of  my  career,  and  I  have  accomplished  some 
difficult  tasks.  There  they  lie,  complete,  within  reach 
of  my  hand.  I  have  greatly  desired  them. ' ' 

He  paused,  the  muscles  in  his  throat  quivering  visibly, 
and  a?ain  she  shivered  in  her  fur-lined  cloak. 

' '  I  am  cold, ' '  she  repeated,  ' '  cold. ' ' 


308  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Then,  Madame,"  he  returned,  picking  up  the  can- 
dle, "  permit  me  to  light  the  fire." 

He  bent  over  the  hearth  and  held  the  flame  to  a  loose 
corner  of  the  under  sheet  of  paper;  it  blazed  up 
instantly. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed. 

They  were  all  on  fire  now,  and  the  cellar  was  alight 
with  flickering  flames  casting  bright  shadows  into  the 
darkness — eager  flames  which  blazed  fiercely  as  though 
anxious  to  be  done  with  their  task. 

"  They  burn  well,"  he  said,  "  do  they  not?" 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  folded  his  arms  across  his 
breast  and  continued  quietly. 

"  They  are  copies,  you  know.  The  originals  were  re- 
turned to  the  files  of  tha  State  Department,  or  the  War 
Department,  as  the  case  might  be.  How  they  blaze!  I 
can  see  your  face  distinctly.  It  is  very  white,  and 
beneath  your  eyes  are  purple  shadows.  You  have  suf- 
fered, and  it  is  my  fault — mine  and  the  man's  upstairs." 

"  Let  the  dead  rest,"  she  interrupted  sharply. 

He  came  a  step  nearer. 

"  So  you  think  I  do  not  love  you,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
do  not  know  how  to  love." 

The  light  in  the  hearth  died  a  little,  then  rose  with 
renewed  vigor,  and  across  the  floor  black  beetles  hurried 
frantically,  the  heat  having  disturbed  their  place  of 
residence. 

"  Very  soon,"  resumed  the  Russian,  "  there  will  be  a 
charred  mass  in  the  fireplace,  the  result  of  weeks  of 
labor.  Soon,  very  soon,  we  will  go.  Recently  my  heart 
blazed  as  brightly  as  those  papers;  like  them,  it  will 
shortly  be  dead  and  cold,  the  result  of  weeks — yes,  years 
— of  longing. 


309 

"  I  am  not  very  familiar  with  Bible  history,"  he 
continued,  "  but  is  there  not  a  story  of  a  man  in  hell, 
burning  with  thirst  and  seeing  almost  within  his  reach 
the  water  which  would  give  him  new  life  ?  He  stretches 
out  his  hand,  but  he  cannot  touch  it.  His  throat  is 
parched  and  he  trembles  with  eagerness.  It  is  there — 
pure  and  life-giving,  but  not  for  him.  He  longs,  but 
may  not  attain;  struggles,  but  may  not  achieve;  he 
sees,  but  may  not  touch.  For  him  the  thirst,  burning, 
unquenchable,  never  to  be  allayed.  Put  your  cloak  about 
you,  Estelle  Redmond,  I  am  going  to  take  you  home." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  wide,  incredulous  eyes. 

' '  Back  to  the  house  you  left  with  such  unwilling  feet ; 
back  to  the  life  you  relinquished  with  such  bitter  tears ; 
—back  to  the  Secretary  of  State." 

"  Home,"  she  repeated,  "  home." 

"  Love  is  unselfish,  patient,  and  long-suffering, "  he 
said;  "  you  told  me  so  yourself  a  moment  ago,  did 
you  not?" 

The  blaze  flickered  and  died  away,  leaving  a  charred 
mass  with  here  and  there  a  glowing  spot  of  red. 

"  The  fire  is  out,"  said  Count  Valdmir,  "  let  us  go." 

In  the  garden,  beneath  the  curious  moon,  he  paused 
and  consulted  his  watch. 

"  One  o'clock,"  he  said;  "  we  spent  two  hours  there. 
What  arrangement  did  you  make  about  your  carriage  ? ' ' 

"  It  was  not  to  return.  I  said  I  would  come  home 
with  Miss  Byrd." 

She  turned  and  looked  long  at  the  old  house,  with 
trembling  lips. 

"  He's  there  alone,"  she  whispered,  "  alone." 

"It  is  best  so,"  he  said  gently;  "  believe  me,  it  is 
best." 


310  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  You  have  been  generous,"  she  said  brokenly. 

"  Three  men,"  he  said,  "  met  here  in  Washington. 
They,  and  they  only,  had  you  cause  to  fear.  It  was  a 
strange  coincidence.  Lyndhurst  you  need  no  longer 
dread;  he  is  a  gentleman  and  he  knows  you  only  as 
Mrs.  Kedmond.  Your  father's  lips  and  mine  are  sealed 
forever — his  by  death  and  mine  by  love.  You  hold  the 
key  to  the  situation,  and  you  only.  Let  me  entreat  you 
not  to  turn  it.  Only  be  silent  and  all  is  well.  Now  let 
us  go." 

She  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  misjudged 
you.  I — I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Count  Valdmir.  I 
am  stunned  by  the  events  of  to-night.  Some  other 
time— 

"  The  love  of  man  for  woman,"  said  the  Russian 
softly,  "  passes  understanding.  Oh  Estelle,  some  time 
you  will  think  of  me  with  pity  instead  of  bitterness. 
Look  at  me — into  my  eyes." 

Instinctively  she  obeyed. 

"  Blue  eyes,"  he  whispered,  "  meant  for  happiness, 
but  dark  to-night  with  shadows.  Red  lips — ah,  they 
should  not  quiver;  they  were  made  for  smiles.  Do  not 
turn  away,  let  me  look.  It  is  the  last.  Have  I  not  re- 
nounced utterly — unconditionally  ? ' ' 

The  wind  swept  down  the  alley,  through  the  broken 
wall,  and  across  the  moonlit  garden.  It  caught  her 
cloak  and  blew  it  open,  stirring  the  lace  upon  her  gown 
and  touching  with  icy  finger  the  white  breast  against 
which  a  red  rose  lay  faded  and  dying. 

"  Give  me  the  rose,"  he  said,  and  she  held  it  towards 
him  in  silence. 

' '  Sometime, ' '  he  said  quietly,  ' '  perhaps  I  shall  dream 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          311 

dreams  in  the  castles  beyond  the  steppes.    Who  knows? 
Let  us  go." 


The  moon  shone  into  an  empty  garden  and  down  the 
alley,  forming  a  path  of  light  across  the  dark  bricks. 

It  looked  again  through  the  broken  shutter  of  the 
Octagon  House  and  into  the  upper  room,  and  the  light 
fell  with  subdued  lustre.  For  here  there  was  a  stillness 
unlike  the  quiet  of  the  garden;  an  emptiness,  and  yet 
a  Presence — dominant,  invisible,  and  awe-inspiring. 

So  the  moon  shone  very  softly,  fearing  to  disturb  the 
old  man  upon  the  floor. 


910 


THE    WIFE    OF 


XXXII 


Miss  JACKSON,  on  her  return  from  the  Treasury  De- 
partment one  afternoon,  inserted  her  latchkey  in  Mrs. 
Colson's  front-door  with  a  gusty  sigh.  This  sigh  was  as 
much  a  matter  of  habit  as  the  turning  of  the  key,  and 
was  intended  to  signify  a  protest  against  the  act  of 
living.  When  she  closed  the  door,  leaving  herself  inside, 
she  repeated  it,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

A  number  of  letters  and  papers  lay  on  the  little  hall 
table,  and  she  turned  them  over  curiously,  examining 
the  address  of  each  with  care.  Miss  Jackson  did  not 
conduct  a  voluminous  correspondence,  but  she  took  an 
interest  in  her  friends',  and  therefore  never  failed  to 
scrutinize  the  contents  of  the  hall  table. 

A  square  blue  envelope  lay  at  the  top  of  the  pile, 
sealed  with  gold  wax  and  freighted  with  perfume.  It 
suggested  the  romantic  side  of  life,  even  as  a  trades- 
man's envelope  beside  it  proclaimed  the  prosaic.  Miss 
Jackson  read  the  superscription,  raised  it  inquiringly 
to  her  nose,  and  again  perused  the  address,  as  though 
doubting  the  evidence  of  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  never!"  she  said  aloud;   "  the  idea!" 

A  door  at  her  right  opened  a  few  inches  and  a  beckon- 
ing hand  appeared  in  the  aperture. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mrs.  Colson  in  a  stage  whisper,  and 
Miss  Jackson  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  Did  you  see  it?"  continued  Mrs.   Colson  eagerly. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          313 

She  was  engaged  in  making  out  her  monthly  bills,  but 
she  pushed  them  aside  and  hospitably  offered  her  guest 
a  seat  on  the  corner  of  the  box  couch. 

"  He's  been  here  now  two  years,"  she  continued, 
"  and  it's  the  first  thing  in  a  woman's  writing  that 
has  ever  come  for  him.  It  is  a  woman,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"'A  girl,"  rejoined  Miss  Jackson  with  some  asperity, 
"  and  a  foolish  one  at  that.  Very  black  ink,  broad  stub 
pen,  straggling  writing  sprawling  all  over  the  envelope, 
and  perfumed  to  death.  Oh,  yes,  it 's  some  silly  girl. ' ' 

Miss  Jackson  herself  used  pale  ink,  a  finely  pointed 
pen,  and  produced  the  most  delicately  minute  specimens 
of  shaded  Spencerian  handwriting. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mrs.  Colson,  "  I  fear  you're  right, 
Miss  Jackson.  Do  you  suppose  he  is  going  to  be  mar- 
ried ?  He  has  been  here  so  long  and  is  so  regular  in  his 
payments,  I  should  dislike  to  see  him  a  victim  to  some 
flighty  young  thing  who  doesn't  know  enough  to  make 
him  comfortable." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Jackson  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't 
know,  Mrs.  Colson,  but  it's  very  easy  to  tell.  Now,  if 
he  picks  up  that  letter  carelessly  and  puts  it  in  his 
pocket  without  looking  at  it,  that's  a  sure  sign  he  was 
expecting  it.  But  if  he  seems  surprised  when  he  sees 
it  and  looks  at  the  postmark —  By  the  way,  what 
was  it?  I  entirely  forgot  to  look.  I'm  not  often  so 
careless. ' ' 

"  Washington,"  returned  Mrs.  Colson  definitely, 
"  posted  at  eight-fifty  this  morning.  I  looked.  Now, 
Miss  Jackson,  if  we  set  the  door  ajar  we  get  a  good 
view  of  the  table.  I  think  we  are  justified,  under  the 
circumstances,  don't  you?" 


314  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,"  agreed  Miss  Jackson,  her  hand 
on  the  knob.  "  How  is  that?" 

"About  an  inch  wider — there.  Now,  you  sit  in  the 
rocker,  here  is  the  evening  paper.  I  '11  be  busy  writing. ' ' 

Several  times  the  front-door  opened  and  closed  and 
the  pile  of  letters  dwindled  perceptibly. 

"Ahem,"  said  Miss  Jackson,  lowering  the  paper  a 
few  inches. 

Mr.  Marks  carefully  put  his  umbrella  in  the  rack  and 
hung  up  his  hat. 

"Always  so  methodical,"  murmured  Mrs.  Colson  ap- 
preciatively. 

He  then  approached  the  table,  glanced  without  inter- 
est at  the  few  remaining  letters,  appropriated  a  copy  of 
the  Scientific  American,  and  prepared  to  go  upstairs. 
As  he  turned  away,  however,  the  blue  envelope  with  its 
decided  black  characters  caught  his  eye.  Mr.  Marks 
hesitated,  picked  it  up  gingerly,  studied  the  address  in- 
credulously, held  it  doubtfully  before  his  nose,  and 
finally  marched  resolutely  upstairs,  the  letter  held 
lightly  between  his  thumb  and  finger  as  though  it  con- 
tained a  dynamite  bomb  which  might  explode  at  any 
moment. 

"  He's  not  engaged,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Colson  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  "  but  there  is  no  telling  how  soon  he 
will  be." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Jackson  acidly,  "it's  very  evident 
she  is  taking  the  initiative.  I  have  my  opinion  of  the 
girl  of  the  period — she  is  unwomanly,  that's  the  best 
I  can  say  for  her.  Can't  you  get  a  little  more  heat  into 
my  room,  Mrs.  Colson?  I  could  see  my  breath  when  I 
dressed  this  morning." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Miss  Jackson,"  returned  Mrs.  Col- 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          315 

son  in  tones  of  suffering  forbearance,  "  but  the  furnace 
is  old  and  the  landlord  won't  replace  it.  I'm  sure  I 
burn  coal  enough,  as  my  bills  would  testify.  It  is  a 
hard  life,  trying  to  satisfy  everybody  and  not  pleasing 
anybody.  My  father  owned  a  hundred  slaves  and 
j " 

But  Miss  Jackson  departed  for  her  frosty  apartment 
without  waiting  to  hear  more.  She  was  familiar  with 
the  story  of  Mrs.  Colson's  inability  to  adjust  her  shoe- 
strings before  the  war  and  knew  the  formula  by  heart. 
Moreover,  like  many  examples  of  humanity,  she  was 
verbose  in  the  recital  of  her  own  woes  and  intolerant 
of  the  trials  of  others. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  seclusion  of  his  own  apartment 
Mr.  Marks  had  opened  his  letter.  He  did  this  carefully, 
inserting  a  penknife  under  the  flap  and  running  it 
neatly  across  the  top  with  a  clean,  clear  cut,  in  the 
most  approved  manner.  If  the  knife  shook  a  little,  no 
one  but  himself  was  any  the  wiser ;  nor  was  it  a  matter 
of  comment  to  the  world  at  large  that  he  again  held  the 
envelope  beneath  his  nose,  sniffing  eagerly,  after  the 
manner  of  a  dog  establishing  a  trail. 

A  long,  slow  smile  of  gratified  complacency  curled 
Mr.  Marks 's  upper  lip  as  he  slowly  unfolded  his  letter. 
It  contained  but  a  few  lines  and  was  signed  "  Yours 
distractedly,  Christine  Gray." 

Mr.  Marks  returned  the  note  to  its  envelope,  stroked 
the  little  whiskers  upon  his  jawbone,  and  meditated. 
The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  answer  it,  so  he  laid 
out  pen  and  ink  and  a  sheet  of  white  foolscap  paper. 
Then  he  paused  suddenly.  Christine  had  used  blue 
paper,  small  in  dimensions  and  adorned  with  her  mono- 
gram. Evidently  blue  paper  was  the  proper  medium  for 


316  THE    WIFE    OF 

communication  between  the  sexes,  and  Mr.  Marks  had 
none. 

He  was,  however,  a  man  of  resources;  he  would 
borrow  from  Mrs.  Colson.  So  he  again  descended  the 
stairs.  Through  the  half-open  door  he  saw  the  lady 
seated  before  her  desk  with  what  appeared  to  his  covet- 
ous eyes  as  mcuntains  of  blue  paper  within  reach  of  her 
hand.  He  had  but  to  knock  or  even  speak  her  name 
and  his  quest  was  ended.  This,  however,  was  not  his 
idea  of  the  proprieties  of  life,  so  he  repaired  to  the 
doorstep,  rang  a  violent  peal  at  the  bell,  and  shivered 
in  the  east  wind  until  the  maid  responded,  then  in- 
quired for  Mrs.  Colson  and  stalked  majestically  into 
the  hall,  where  he  preferred  his  request  with  stentorian 
tones  and  profuse  verbiage. 

His  need  at  once  supplied,  he  returned  to  his  room, 
sublimely  unconscious  that  every  boarder  in  the  house 
knew  he  had  borrowed  blue  note-paper  and  speculated 
with  wondering  amusement  as  to  the  date  of  the 
wedding. 

Mr.  Marks  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink  and  wrote 

"  Miss  GBAY,  DEAR  MADAM:" 

fluently.  Then  he  paused  and,  taking  up  a  pencil,  made 
several  rough  draughts  on  the  sheet  of  foolscap  before 
transcribing  the  following  words  upon  the  blue  paper: 

"  It  will  be  convenient  for  me  to  be  present  at  your  residence 
at  eight  o'clock  this  evening,  the  10th  instant. 
"  Yours  composedly, 

"  JOHN  N.  MASKS." 

"  '  Composedly,'  "  he  reflected,  applying  his  tongue 
to  the  mucilage  of  the  envelope,  "  is  the  antonym  of 
'  distractedly.'  And  I  am  calm — quite  calm." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          317 

There  were  many  glances  directed  at  Mr.  Marks  when 
he  appeared  at  dinner  that  evening,  with  every  hair 
standing  severely  upright  and  the  shining  expanse  of 
his  black  satin,  ready-tied  cravat  relieved  by  a  chaste 
and  elegant  gold-plated  pin, — a  dove  holding  in  its 
mouth  an  olive-branch,  from  which  hung  a  crystal  dew- 
drop, — and  he  found  himself  the  recipient  of  much 
unusual  attention,  wThich  he  endured  with  lofty  conde- 
scension. 

"  Mrs.  Colson,"  he  remarked  abruptly  as  he  left  the 
table,  "  I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would  place  a  quart 
of  milk  and  some  ham  sandwiches  in  my  room  at  ten- 
thirty.  By  that  time  I  am  of  the  opinion  it  will  be 
necessary  for  me  to  eat  again." 

"  Did  you  ever!"  said  Mrs.  Colson  appealingly. 

"  Love,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  gruff  laugh, 
"  affects  the  present  generation  strangely.  In  my  day 
it  destroyed  the  appetite;  now  it  appears  to  produce 
an  inward  vacuum  which  is  to  be  filled  after  a  visit  to 
the  fair  inamorata.  Ladies !  ladies !  you  are  respon- 
sible for  much." 

And  the  ladies  responded  with  the  customary  re- 
frain,— 

"  Oh  General!" 

Mr.  Marks  walked  briskly  down  the  street,  occasion- 
ally feeling  in  his  pocket  to  make  sure  his  letter  was 
quite  safe.  He  had  no  intention  of  posting  it,  knowing 
it  would  not  be  delivered  until  next  morning,  but  a 
small  book  on  etiquette  he  had  recently  purchased  reit- 
erated that  a  communication  from  a  lady  should  be 
answered  at  once.  Therefore  he  had  replied  imme- 
diately. 

"  For  Miss  Gray,"  he  said,  delivering  the  blue  enve- 


318  THE    WIFE    OF 

lope  into  the  reluctant  hand  of  the  boarding-house  fac- 
totum who  had  responded  to  his  ring  and  turning 
abruptly  away  from  the  open  door,  as  though  fearing 
he  would  be  called  upon  to  explain  his  motive. 

On  the  opposite  corner  was  a  drug-store,  and  there 
he  directed  his  steps  to  wait  until  Christine  should  have 
had  sufficient  time  to  prepare  to  receive  him. 

' '  For, ' '  he  reflected  generously,  ' '  no  doubt  she  would 
desire  to  make  some  slight  changes  of  apparel,  some 
frivolous  feminine  adornment,"  and  involuntarily  his 
hand  sought  the  dove  with  the  dewdrop. 

"  I  will  wait  fifteen  minutes,"  he  decided,  his  eyes 
on  the  drug-store  clock. 

But  no  thought  of  feminine  adornment  occurred  to 
Christine,  who  sat  dejectedly  in  her  own  room  with  red 
eyes  and  trembling  lips.  On  the  table  beside  her  lay 
a  small  package  addressed  to  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers, 
House  of  Representatives,  also  a  long  white  envelope, 
soiled  and  creased  with  much  handling,  which  she 
glanced  at  apprehensively  from  time  to  time  with  ex- 
pressive face. 

"  Oh  Molly,"  she  said,  "  you  might  do  it  for  me — 
you  might." 

But  her  sister  shook  her  head. 

' '  I  must  go  back  now, ' '  she  said,  rising.  ' '  I  have  been 
gone  nearly  an  hour,  and  the  day  nurse  will  wonder 
what  has  become  of  me.  You  know  I  took  the  night 
duty,  but  he  is  so  much  better  that  to-morrow  I  shall 
tell  the  doctor  only  one  nurse  is  necessary." 

"  Yes,"  said  Christine,  without  interest.  "  Oh  Molly, 
I  can't  do  it!  I  can't!" 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  what  you  want  to  do,  Chris- 
tine," said  the  older  girl  gravely,  "it's  a  question  of 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          319 

right  and  wrong.  If  you  gave  those  papers  to  Mr. 
Rivers  on  New  Year's  Day,  and  I  found  them  in  Mr. 
Leigh's  pocket  two  nights  later,  why,  there  is  something 
very  queer  about  it,  that's  all,  for  Mr.  Leigh  had  been 
ill  some  days  before  he  was  discovered;  and  then,  too, 
they  are  important,  or  he  wouldn't  be  muttering  about 
them  in  his  delirium.  I  don't  know  what  the  proper 
course  would  be,  but  Mr.  Redmond  is  a  kind  man, — I 
have  seen  enough  of  him  to  know  that, — and  he  is 
Secretary  of  State  and  would  undoubtedly  know  what 
was  best." 

"  Well,"  said  the  younger  girl  rebelliously,  "  why 
didn't  you  give  them  to  him  yourself  without  dragging 
me  into  it?" 

"  Because,"  said  Mary,  "  I  was  afraid.  You  have 
gone  your  own  way  lately  without  regard  for  me.  I  had 
seen  the  papers  in  your  hands;  they  were  heavy  with 
your  perfume.  I  did  not  know  what  an  investigation 
might  disclose,  for  there  are  things,  Christine,  which 
I  did  not  even  whisper  to  myself. ' ' 

"Don't,"  cried  Christine  sharply,  ''don't,  Molly! 
It's  not  so.  I  have  been  foolish,  that  is  all." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know.  It's  all  right — it's  all  over. 
Perhaps  Mr.  Marks  will  explain  where  he  got  this  enve- 
lope. Bring  him  with  you  this  evening.  I  will  ask 
Mr.  Redmond  to  see  you  and  you  must  tell  him  your 
story,  just  as  you  told  it  to  me.  No  one  must  be 
shielded,  you  understand?" 

"  Oh  Molly,"  cried  Christine  with  a  burst  of  tears, 
"  he  said — he  did  say — he  would  return  the  papers  to 
the  State  Department  and  no  one  would  be  any  the 
wiser.  It  seemed  such  a  natural  thing  for  him  to  do; 
but  here  they  are — the  hateful  things!  There  must  be 


320  THE    WIFE    OF 

some  mistake.  Why,  he  is  a  Member  of  Congress,  he 
could  not  stoop  to  such  things." 

Mary's  mouth  hardened,  and  she  picked  up  the  little 
package  contemptuously. 

' '  I  will  mail  it  as  I  go  out, ' '  she  said  slowly.  ' '  Were 
you  mad,  Christine,  to  accept  this  necklace  and  that 
diamond  star?  Is  there  anything  more?" 

"  No,"  said  Christine  with  a  gasp,  "  one  was  Christ- 
mas and  one  New  Year's.  The  flowers  I  couldn't  keep, 
except  one  of  each  to  press — they  faded,  you  know.  He 
wanted  to  marry  me,  Mary.  Don't  look  at  me  that 
way!" 

"  Did  he  say  so?" 

' '  He  said  he  loved  me, ' '  said  the  girl  softly,  ' '  and,  of 
course,  that's  what  he  meant." 

Mary  Gray  turned  abruptly  to  the  window  and  stood 
a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Bathe  your  eyes,  dear,"  she  said  gently,  "  and  try 
and  control  yourself.  You  wrote  to  Mr.  Marks,  as  I 
asked  you?" 

"  Yes,  Molly,  I  didn't  say  what  I  wanted.  I  wish 
Harry  was  here." 

"And  so  do  I,"  echoed  Mary,  with  a  fervent  sigh.  "  I 
must  really  go,  Christine.  Do  not  be  later  than  nine 
o'clock, — the  Secretary  will  have  finished  dinner  by 
then, — and  ask  for  me.  It's  hard,  I  know,  but  it  will 
soon  be  over." 

"  Molly,"  said  Christine,  with  something  between  a 
laugh  and  a  sob,  "  you  were  born  centuries  too  late. 
You  were  intended  for  a  Spartan  mother.  Good-by. ' ' 

The  slipshod  servant  announced  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Marks  and  produced  his  note  at  the  same  time — she  had 
not  thought  a  special  trip  upstairs  necessary  to  deliver 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          321 

the  letter  when  it  was  entrusted  to  her  care,  nor  did 
Christine  cast  more  than  a  cursory  glance  at  the  epistle 
concocted  with  so  much  labor. 

"  If  I  must,  I  must,"  she  said  as  she  went  to  the 
closet  and  got  her  hat  and  coat. 


"  But  I  assure  you,"  protested  Mr.  Marks,  "  I  know 
no  more  of  them  than  you  do." 

They  were  walking  slowly  through  Lafayette  Park, 
and  he  held  in  his  hand  the  bone  of  contention  in  the 
shape  of  the  long  envelope. 

"  Well,"  said  Christine  sharply,  "  you  brought  them 
to  me  yourself,  and  I  consider  you  responsible  for  all 
this  trouble,  with  your  white  hyacinths  and  ossification 
papers. ' ' 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Marks,  astonished. 

"I  do,"  she  repeated  irritably.  "  Would  anybody 
else  in  the  whole  world  give  a  package  to  a  girl  without 
knowing  what  was  in  it,  and  then  say  weeks  afterwards 
that  he  had  a  half -consciousness  of  picking  up  some- 
thing in  the  park  one  rainy  night?  It's  just  ridiculous, 
that's  what  it  is.  And  what  are  you  going  to  say  to 
the  Secretary  of  State?  He'll  want  more  than  a  half- 
consciousness,  I  fancy." 

"  Really,"  returned  the  unhappy  youth,  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  say.  Why  do  you  insist  on  going?  It  is 
a  most  unpleasant  expedition. ' ' 

"  We  are  going,"  said  Christine  grimly,  "  so  that 
you  may  explain  to  the  Secretary  all  about  those 
papers." 

"  Miss  Gray,"  said  Mr.  Marks  firmly,  "  I  suggest 
that  we  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Why  should  your  sister 

21 


322  THE    WIFE    OF 

force  us  to  accede  to  her  views  of  what  is  right?  Have 
we  not  independent  brains  of  our  own?  I  came  out 
to-night  with  a  definitely  established  purpose  in  mind. 
I  had  decided  after  much  thought  to  make  a  proposition 
to  you  I  have  long  meditated,  and  have  no  intention  of 
being  diverted  therefrom  for  any  reason.  Let  us  sit 
down. ' ' 

"  It's  cold,"  objected  Christine,  "  and  the  benches 
are  covered  with  snow.  I  don 't  want  to  sit  down. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks,  however,  steered  resolutely  for  a  secluded 
bench  which  rested  upon  the  shining  expanse  of  a  frozen 
puddle. 

"  I  think  this  would  be  a  good  place  to  locate,"  he 
remarked  gently,  pushing  his  companion  into  it  and 
seating  himself  beside  her.  Their  combined  weight  was 
too  much  for  the  thin  covering  of  ice,  and  the  bench 
broke  through  with  an  unpleasant  splashing  of  muddy 
water. 

"  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,"  wailed  Christine,  "  what  a 
sight !  my  new  coat ! ' ' 

"  It  is  immaterial,"  returned  Mr.  Marks  loftily.  "  I 
am  about  to  pay  you  a  high  compliment,  Miss  Gray,  and 
should  be  glad  of  your  undivided  attention." 

"  Well,"  said  Christine  resignedly,  "  please  be  quick. 
My  feet  are  freezing." 

Mr.  Marks  cleared  his  throat  and  thrust  one  hand 
negligently  into  the  breast  of  his  overcoat,  after  the 
manner  of  an  orator  he  much  admired. 

"  The  world,"  he  began  pompously,  "  is  full  of 
women.  In  some  States  their  preponderance  over  man 
(according  to  statistics)  is  little  less  than  terrifying. 
Woman  is  the  weaker  vessel.  She  is  made  for  man's 
convenience;  her  lot  to  walk  submissive  at  his  side, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          323 

performing  whatever  duties  fall  in  her  way,  while  he 
devotes  his  God-given  brain  and  ability  to  achieving  his 
ambitions. ' ' 

"  Indeed!"  interrupted  Christine  indignantly. 

But  Mr.  Marks,  immersed  in  rhetoric,  did  not  hear 
her. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  continued  fluently, — "  I  may  say 
frequently, — we  see  unmarried  women,  which,  of  course, 
means  that  no  man  has  looked  with  favor  upon  them. 
It  is,  perhaps,  their  misfortune  rather  than  their  fault. 
But  you,  Miss  Gray,  need  fear  no  such  catastrophe. 
From  the  first  my  eye  has  been  attracted  by  you,  as 
yours,  no  doubt,  has  been  by  me,  according  to  the  laws 
of  affinity." 

'  Upon  my  word!"  began  Christine,  but  he  silenced 
her  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  Certain  books,"  he  resumed,  "  which  I  have  re- 
cently consulted  tell  me  that  persons  of  your  coloring 
and  figure  live  long  and  are  healthy.  Therefore  I  now 
make  you  an  offer  of  my  hand  and  heart." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Christine  vexedly. 
'  You  are  talking  nonsense,  Mr.  Marks.    Let  us  go  on. ' ' 

But  Mr.  Marks  was  determined  to  finish  his  discourse". 
He  felt  that  he  had  not  expressed  himself  quite  happily, 
and  strove  to  remember  the  words  of  his  book  on  eti- 
quette, under  the  heading,  "  Proposals  of  Marriage." 

'  Honored  lady,"  he  said  eloquently,  "  deign  to  be 
my  wife.    I  offer  you  my  all — myself ' 

Here  he  paused,  a  victim  to  memory  and  innate  hon- 
esty. 

"All  except  my  head,"  he  added  humbly.  "  I  have 
bestowed  that  upon  a  scientific  society,  to  be  dissected 
after  my  death,  but  what  remains  is  yours. ' ' 


324  THE    WIFE    OF 

The  electric  light  shone  full  on  Mr.  Marks  as  he  made 
this  extraordinary  statement,  and  Christine  glanced  at 
the  face  bent  eagerly  towards  her,  with  its  shining  spec- 
tacles, its  tufts  of  pale-brown  whiskers  upon  the  apex 
of  the  jawbone,  and  the  curling  upper  lip,  fringed  with 
chapped  skin,  the  result  of  winter  winds. 

"I'm  sure,"  she  cried  with  a  hysterical  laugh,  "  if  I 
had  to  marry  you  at  all,  I'd  much  rather  do  it  without 
your  head  than  with  it." 

Mr.  Marks  drew  back  suddenly,  as  though  he  had 
received  a  slap  in  the  face. 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  decline?"  he  said 
slowly. 

Something  in  his  voice  caused  the  girl  to  look  more 
closely  at  him,  and  her  manner  changed. 

"  I've  hurt  you,"  she  said  gently.  "I'm  sorry,  but 
I  didn't  know  you  really  cared,  you — you  never  said  a 
word  about  loving,  you  know." 

"It  is  quite  immaterial,"  he  returned,  rising  stiffly, 
"  let  us  go  on.  I  will  leave  you  at  the  door  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  State  if  you  persist  in  holding  this  unnecessary 
interview,  but  I  firmly  decline  to  accompany  you  any 
farther." 

Christine  grasped  his  arm,  with  a  sudden  realization 
of  the  ordeal  before  her. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't,"  she  gasped,  "  you  mustn't. 
What  would  I  do  all  by  myself?" 

Mr.  Marks  hesitated  visibly.  Here  was  the  weaker 
vessel  appealing  to  him  for  support. 

"  If  I  thought  my  presence  would  sustain  you,"  he 
began,  unwillingly  conscious  of  the  little  hand  upon  his 
arm,  "but  you  have  just  convinced  me  you  do  not  wish 
my  support. ' ' 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         325 

The  pressure  of  the  hand  tightened,  and  Mr.  Marks 
saw  two  troubled  brown  eyes  gazing  up  at  him,  eyes 
which  brightened  as  they  looked  before  they  were  veiled 
by  the  lowering  of  white  lids.  The  ghost  of  a  dimple 
played  about  her  cheek  and  the  red  lips  curled  upward 
irresistibly. 

"  If  you  really  loved  me,  you'd  go  with  me,"  she 
whispered.  "I'm  afraid,  you  know." 

Hope  sprang  up  within  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Marks,  and 
the  head  consecrated  to  science  was  bent  eagerly  over 
the  weaker  vessel,  created  for  man's  convenience,  now 
walking  submissively  by  his  side  with  meekly  downcast 
eyes.  This,  indeed,  was  as  it  should  be. 

"  I  will  attend  you,  honored  Madam,"  said  he, 
quoting  again  from  his  little  book  and  not  daring  to 
trust  to  original  inspirations.  "  Pray  command  me. 
Be  careful,  or  you  '11  step  in  the  puddle. ' ' 

The  last  sentence  was  not  a  quotation  from  the  treatise 
on  etiquette. 


326  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXXIII 


AFTER  strong  emotion  of  any  kind  comes  reaction. 
Estelle  Redmond  found  herself  unable  to  lift  her  head 
from  the  pillow  the  morning  following  the  death  of 
Colonel  St.  John.  She  was  overcome  by  a  lassitude 
impossible  to  ignore,  and  could  only  lie  still  with  closed 
eyes  and  throbbing  temples. 

Again  and  again  she  reviewed  the  events  of  the  pre- 
ceding night.  Was  it  possible  it  was  all  over,  and  she 
herself  safe  at  home,  with  no  sword  of  Damocles  sus- 
pended over  her  head,  no  sickening  horror  of  what  the 
next  minute  might  disclose? 

The  Secretary  entered  softly  and  bent  over  her  with 
a  few  murmured  words  of  anxious  sympathy.  She 
grasped  his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  laying  her  face  against 
it,  and  drawing  much  comfort  from  his  presence. 

"  Stay  with  me,"  she  said.  "  Oh  John,  never,  never 
let  me  out  of  your  sight  again. ' ' 

He  laughed  and  gently  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hot  fore- 
head. 

"  How  tired  you  would  get  of  the  old  watch-dog, 
dearest.  Lie  still  and  rest.  All  this  trouble  and  excite- 
ment has  been  too  much  for  you,  as  I  feared.  You 
must  countermand  your  engagements  for  the  day,  and 
when  I  get  home  from  the  Department  we  will  spend  a 
long,  quiet  evening  together,  and  have  our  dinner  served 
in  your  sitting-room,  so  you  need  not  even  trouble  to 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          327 

dress.  I  must  go  now.  You  are  sure  it  is  only  a  head- 
ache?" 

The  day  had  worn  on  slowly,  and  gradually  the 
throbbing  in  her  temples  had  subsided  and  the  lassitude 
been  replaced  by  a  sense  of  security  and  great  peace. 
She  had  stood  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss;  her  feet  had 
even  touched  the  crumbling  earth  about  the  edges,  then 
suddenly  the  hand  relentlessly  pushing  her  forward  had 
thrust  her  back. 

"  Sometimes,"  murmured  Estelle,  "  sometimes  God 
in  heaven  does  hear  prayers  from  earth." 

In  the  afternoon  she  went  into  her  sitting-room  and 
lay  upon  the  couch,  very  white  and  still,  with  shining 
eyes  and  loosely  clasped  hands.  Upon  her  desk  a  vase 
of  roses  filled  the  room  with  their  perfume,  lifting  their 
great  heads  proudly,  but  Mrs.  Redmond's  eyes  clouded 
when  she  observed  them  and  she  touched  the  bell  beside 
her. 

"  Take  them  away,"  she  said  impatiently  when  Jose- 
phine appeared,  "  I  hate  red  roses." 

And  the  maid  had  carried  them  off,  greatly  wondering. 

To  her  presently  came  Isabel  Byrd,  who  hung  affec- 
tionately over  her  with  solicitous  inquiries  and  many 
sympathetic  touches  of  her  brow  and  hair — Isabel,  who 
laughingly  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  for  dinner. 

"  Because,  Estelle,  I  am  cross  to-day  and  don't  want 
to  go  anywhere  to-night,  so  if  you'll  keep  me  just  as 
I  am— 

And  Mrs.  Redmond,  with  a  little  sigh  for  the  tete-a- 
tete  dinner  and  long,  quiet  evening,  had  put  her  arm 
about  the  girl  and  urged  her  to  remain. 

"  I'll  telephone  to  father  to  come  for  me,"  remarked 
Isabel,  removing  her  hat  with  alacrity.  "  He  can  take 


328  THE    WIFE    OF 

Aunt  Mary  to  the  Lawtons  and  then  slip  off  here ;  he  '11 
like  that,  I  know." 

"  The  Lawtons,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond,  raising  herself 
on  her  elbow,  "  the  ball  of  the  season — why,  Isabel!" 

The  color  rose  in  Isabel's  cheeks  and  she  turned  away 
towards  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,"  she  said  shortly.  "  Mr.  Rivers 
will  be  there.  I  don 't  want  to  meet  him. ' ' 

"Mr.  Rivers,"  said  Estelle  thoughtfully,  "Mr. 
Rivers — oh 

Quite  suddenly  she  remembered  the  ring  Lyndhurst 
had  found  on  the  floor  of  the  Octagon  House  and  given 
her  for  safe-keeping,  and  which  she  had  forgotten  in 
the  impending  crisis  of  her  own  affairs.  She  said 
nothing  to  the  girl,  however,  merely  telling  her  to  bring 
her  low  chair  close  to  the  couch  and  be  comfortable. 

"  Estelle,"  said  Isabel  as  she  obeyed,  "  you  look  as 
though  you  had  been  ill  for  weeks,  with  all  your  vitality 
wrung  out  of  you.  It  troubles  me  to  see  you. ' ' 

"  I've  not  been  myself,"  returned  the  older  woman 
quietly,  "  for  some  time,  dear,  many — many  weeks  it 
seems  to  me,  but  I'm  going  to  get  well.  Just  wait  and 
see.  And  now,  Isabel,  what  shall  we  talk  about  ? ' ' 

The  girl  laid  her  face  on  the  pillow  beside  her  friend 
and  slipped  her  hand  shyly  into  Mrs.  Redmond's. 

"  Tell  me  about  Mr.  Leigh,  Estelle,"  she  whispered, 
"  all  about  finding  him  and  everything,  I  want  to 
know. ' ' 


The  Secretary  enjoyed  the  dainty  little  dinner,  served 
at  the  round  table  in  Mrs.  Redmond's  sitting-room,  with 
his  wife  on  one  hand  and  Isabel  Byrd  on  the  other.  He 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          329 

noted  with  pleasure  the  light  which  had  returned  to 
Estelle  's  eyes  and  a  spontaneity  in  her  laugh  which  had 
long  been  lacking  to  his  sensitive  ears,  and  had  re- 
sponded delightedly  to  her  evident  desire  to  be  amused, 
even  resigning  himself  to  eating  much  more  than  he 
wanted  that  she  might  be  satisfied,  for  the  Secretary's 
appetite  had  failed  perceptibly  of  late. 

To-night,  however,  Estelle  and  Isabel  had  suggested 
that  no  servant  be  in  attendance,  and  had  themselves 
selected  what  he  should  eat,  merely  stipulating  as  a 
return  for  this  attention  that  he  consume  it  all.  Isabel 
had  demanded  a  chafing-dish,  boasting  of  her  success  in 
the  preparation  of  a  certain  entree,  and  the  Secretary 
had  become  absorbed  in  the  concoction  of  a  salad  he  had 
known  in  France,  the  result  of  which  was  beyond 
reproach. 

In  short,  the  dinner  was  a  great  success,  and  if  Mrs. 
Redmond  ate  little  herself,  she  managed  to  conceal  the 
fact  by  lively  contributions  to  the  conversation,  and  fre- 
quent suggestions  and  criticisms  during  the  preparation 
of  the  salad  and  entree.  If  her  eyes  sometimes  filled 
suddenly  and  threatened  to  overflow,  they  were  happy 
tears  and  hurt  no  one,  and  if  she  now  and  then  laid 
her  hand  on  her  husband's  with  an  involuntary  tighten- 
ing of  the  fingers,  only  the  Secretary  knew  it,  and  he 
invariably  returned  the  pressure,  just  by  way  of  showing 
her  he  understood. 

' '  It  has  been  the  nicest  dinner  I  ever  had, ' '  exclaimed 
Isabel  at  its  conclusion.  "  How  I  wish  father  had  been 
with  us." 

So  the  Secretary  retired  to  the  library  to  smoke  his 
cigar,  feeling  a  strange  lightening  of  the  load  which 
seemed  to  have  settled  upon  him  of  late,  and  dismissed 


330  THE    WIFE    OF 

affairs  of  state  as  much  as  possible  from  his  thoughts, 
with  the  optimistic  reflection  that  things  might  work 
out  right  after  all,  while  upstairs  Mrs.  Redmond  and 
Isabel  drew  their  chairs  before  the  fire  and  resumed  the 
subject  which  had  engrossed  them  before  dinner.  Mrs. 
Redmond's  hand  lay  on  the  girl's  bright  hair,  and  she 
touched  it  tenderly  now  and  then  as  she  talked.  Once 
she  paused,  and  Isabel  raised  her  head  impetuously. 

"  Go  on,  Estelle, "  she  said  breathlessly,  "  go  on.  In 
his  delirium  he  repeated  one  name  constantly,  the  nurse 
said.  What  was  it?" 

Mrs.  Redmond  told  her,  and  the  gold-crowned  head 
was  hidden  on  her  friend's  lap. 

Senator  Byrd,  coming  in  search  of  his  daughter,  and 
the  Hon.  Joshua  Grimes,  coming  in  search  of  any  in- 
formation he  could  glean  regarding  David  Leigh,  met 
on  the  doorstep  and  were  taken  into  the  library,  where 
the  Secretary  greeted  them  warmly  and  provided  them 
with  chairs  and  cigars. 

"  Only  I  stipulate,"  he  added,  laughing,  "  that  we 
don't  touch  on  public  matters.  Leigh  is  out  of  danger, 
but  still  very  weak.  Oh,  yes,  Grimes,  he  is  here;  had 
you  not  heard?  Then  I  may  take  the  entire  credit  of 
your  visit  to  myself?  That  is  good.  Isabel  is  upstairs, 
Byrd;  she  dined  with  us  en  famille,  and  we  had  an 
uncommonly  good  time.  Mrs.  Redmond  is  a  little  under 
the  weather,  but  I  think  she  will  see  you  both  and  later 
we  will  join  them.  What  is  it,  James?" 

James  approached  and  said  something  in  a  low  tone, 
and  the  Secretary  excused  himself  and  withdrew.  He 
was  absent  some  time,  and  the  two  men  drew  their  chairs 
together  and  entered  into  a  discussion  upon  the  impend- 
ing crisis.  Mr.  Grimes  related  the  story  of  his  luncheon 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          331 

with  the  Member  from  Virginia  and  his  deduction  there- 
from, and  Senator  Byrd  frowned  impatiently. 

"  Now,  Byrd,"  said  the  Member  from  South  Dakota 
impressively,  "  I've  been  your  friend  this  many  a  year, 
and  you  used  to  place  some  confidence  in  my  judgment." 

"And  do  still,"  interrupted  Senator  Byrd,  smiling. 

' '  Well,  I  'm  going  to  try  your  temper,  I  reckon,  but  I 
sha'n't  be  happy  till  I  free  my  mind.  I  think  Rivers 
is  playing  a  snide  game,  for  all  his  nicely  parted  hair 
and  well-creased  trousers,  and  I  wish  his  engagement 
with  Isabel  was  off." 

The  Senator  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  Rivers  has  surprised  me  lately.  It  is  not  like  him  to 
show  his  hand  so  plainly  unless  he  is  certain  of  the 
game.  He  means  to  be  President,  you  know,  and  would 
like  the  Portfolio  of  State  as  a  stepping-stone,  but  I 
hardly  agree  in  your  opinion;  you  are  not  exactly  an 
unbiassed  judge,  you  know.  As  to  his  engagement  with 
Isabel,  well,  it  is  off,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  it  won't  be 
renewed.  She  will  not  allow  his  name  mentioned." 

"A  fine  girl,"  cried  the  corpulent  Member  with  much 
satisfaction,  "  an  uncommonly  fine  girl  of  great  good 
judgment." 

The  return  of  the  Secretary  prevented  further  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject.  He  held  in  his  hand  an  envelope 
and  his  eyes  shone  with  repressed  excitement. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  you  are,  I  know, 
both  aware  that  the  Roostchook  papers  are  missing. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Senator  Byrd. 

"  To-night,"  continued  Mr.  Redmond, — "  just  now, 
in  fact, — I  received  a  message  that  the  nurse  in  charge 
of  Leigh  wished  to  speak  with  me.  I  found  her  in  the 


332  THE    WIFE    OF 

drawing-room  with  a  remarkably  pretty  and  very  much 
agitated  girl,  whom  she  introduced  as  her  sister,  and  a 
rather  peculiar  looking  young  fellow.  This  girl,  with 
much  embarrassment,  related  a  most  extraordinary  story 
and  produced  this  envelope.  It  contains  the  Roostchook 
papers. ' ' 

His  hearers  gazed  at  him  in  mute  amazement,  and  he 
continued  rapidly : 

"  Moreover,  these  papers  were  brought  into  this  house 
in  Leigh's  pocket.  Miss  Gray,  the  nurse,  saw  them  and 
recognized  them  as  a  package  she  had  seen  in  the  pos- 
session of  her  sister.  She  took  them  to  her  to  make  sure, 
and  insisted  that  the  girl  bring  them  to  me  and  explain 
how  they  came  into  her  possession.  She  did  not,  of 
course,  realize  their  importance,  but  she  knew  they  were 
official  papers  which  should  be  returned  to  the  Depart- 
ment. It  is  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  heard 
of.  I  cannot  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  girl,  but  I  do 
not  know  what  to  think  of  the  man.  I  should  like  you 
to  hear  her  story,  as  it  bears  a  grave  implication  and  I 
should  be  glad  of  your  advice." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Senator  Byrd  gravely,  "  let 
us  hear  it." 

"  She  is  very  young,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  and  very 
frightened,  poor  child.  I  think,  Byrd,  she  can  hardly 
be  as  old  as  Isabel." 

He  went  into  the  drawing-room  and  returned  at  once, 
preceding  Christine  and  Mr.  Marks,  the  former  evi- 
dently suppressing  an  inclination  to  run  away;  the 
latter  wearing  an  air  of  superior  protest  against  the 
entire  proceedings. 

"  Miss  Gray,"  said  the  Secretary  gently,  drawing 
forward  a  chair  for  her,  "  these  are  friends  of  mine, — 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         333 

Senator  Byrd  and  Mr.  Grimes, — and  I  should  like  them 
to  know  the  story  you  just  told  me.  Mr.  Marks,  gentle- 
men. ' ' 

Mr.  Marks  looked  as  though  he  would  have  repudiated 
his  name  had  that  been  possible,  and,  sitting  down  upon 
the  extreme  edge  of  a  chair,  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
ceiling. 

"  Mr.  Marks,"  said  the  Secretary,  suppressing  a 
smile,  ' '  went  to  call  upon  Miss  Gray  one  stormy  evening 
in  December,  and  very  naturally  desired  to  take  her 
some  flowers.  I  wish  you  could  remember  the  date, 
Miss  Gray." 

Christine  shook  her  head  helplessly;  dates  were  not 
her  strong  point.  Mr.  Marks,  however,  ceased  his  con- 
templation of  the  ceiling  long  enough  to  produce  a 
memorandum-book  and  turned  over  its  pages  with  accus- 
tomed fingers. 

"  Under  date  of  December  2d,"  he  said  briefly,  "  I 
find  three  entries,  as  follows :  Changed  laundress ;  pur- 
chased white  hyacinths,  fifty  cents;  called  upon  Miss 
Gray.  I  should  judge,  therefore,  that  the  date  was 
December  2d. " 

"  Now,  Miss  Gray,"  said  Mr.  Redmond,  "  please  tell 
what  followed." 

And  Christine  unwillingly  related  how  Mr.  Marks  had 
forgotten  to  deliver  the  flowers  and  they  had  been  sent 
to  her  room  later,  accompanied  by  a  package  she  did 
not  open. 

' '  You  see, ' '  she  said  helplessly,  ' '  I  thought  they  were 
things  he  wanted  me  to  read,  and  I  did  not  feel  inter- 
ested in  them.  Mr.  Marks  is  highly  scientific  and  reads 
all  sorts  of  articles  with  long  words  I  don't  understand, 
for  I'm  very  ignorant.  So  I  put  the  bundle  in  my 


334  THE    WIFE    OF 

bureau  drawer,  meaning  to  open  it  sometime,  and  forgot 
it.  I'm — I'm  awfully  sorry." 

The  Senator  recognized  that  tears  were  not  far  from 
the  girl's  voice  and  felt  an  inclination  to  say  it  was 
of  no  consequence.  Suppose  it  were  Isabel?  Mr. 
Grimes,  however,  was  anxious  to  get  at  the  root  of  the 
matter. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  kindly  explain 
how  those  papers  came  into  your  possession." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mr.  Marks  blandly.  "  The 
evening  was  inclement,  and  in  passing  through  Lafay- 
ette Park  my  hat  was  forcibly  removed  from  my  head 
by  the  strength  of  the  wind  and  I  was  obliged  to  exer- 
cise speed  and  ingenuity  in  its  pursuit.  The  railing 
surrounding  the  statue  of  Jackson  arrested  its  flight, 
and  I  have  a  sub-consciousness  in  the  lower  strata  of  my 
brain  that  when  I  rose  to  my  feet  I  grasped  something 
beside  my  hat.  I  know  nothing  more  concerning  the 
episode. ' ' 

"  Well,  see  here,"  said  the  Member  from  South 
Dakota,  "  I  reckon  you'll  have  to  cultivate  those  lower 
strata  a  bit.  We  want  to  know  more  about  the  matter." 

"  Miss  Gray,"  interposed  the  Secretary,  "  forgot  the 
package  until  New  Year's  Day,  when  she  discovered  it 
in  her  bureau-drawer  and  opened  it.  She  was  naturally 
dismayed  at  its  contents  and  puzzled  as  to  what  she 
should  do  with  them.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  at  the 
time  to  bring  them  to  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Grimes  impatiently,  "  well,  young 
lady,  what  did  you  do  with  them?" 

"  I  gave  them  to  a  friend,"  she  said  slowly,  "  who 
said  he  would  return  them  to  the  State  Department.  I 
thought  I  was  doing  what  was  right." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          335 

"  Of  course,"  said  Senator  Byrd  soothingly,  "  of 
course.  And  the  friend  was  Mr.  Leigh?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  the  friend  was  Mr. 
Rivers." 

Mr.  Grimes  indulged  in  a  long  whistle,  and  Christine 
turned  a  lively  and  painful  scarlet  even  to  the  tips  of 
her  ears. 

"  Mr.  Rivers,"  said  the  Secretary  gently,  "  knew 
Miss  Gray's  father.  He  was  one  of  his  constituents." 

"  But,"  said  Senator  Byrd  after  a  silence  of  some 
minutes,  "  how  did  the  nurse  recognize  the  papers  in 
Mr.  Leigh's  pocket  as  the  ones  in  her  sister's  possession 
if  they  had  never  been  opened?" 

'  By  a  peculiar  perfume  her  sister  uses,"  returned 
the  Secretary. 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Christine,  feeling  it  was  incumbent  upon 
her  to  speak,  "  the  minute  Molly  smelled  the  envelope 
she  knew  it  was  the  one  Mr.  Marks  gave  me." 

'  I  am  sure,"  interposed  Mr.  Marks  in  a  tone  of 
offended  dignity,  "  my  person  is  permeated  by  no  odor 
which  exudes  therefrom  and  penetrates  inanimate 
objects." 

' '  No, ' '  cried  Christine  hysterically,  ' '  but  mine  is ! " 

Then,  to  the  surprise  and  consternation  of  the  four 
men,  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  began  to  cry, 
and  Mr.  Redmond  hastily  left  the  room. 

"  Molly,"  she  sobbed,  "  I  want  Molly." 

"  She  wants  Molly,"  said  Mr.  Grimes,  as  though 
Molly  were  a  stick  of  candy.  "  Yes,  of  course,  Byrd, 
she  wants  Molly." 

Senator  Byrd  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and 
spoke  quietly.  He  understood  the  ways  of  girls. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  dear,"  he  said  gently,  "  you  have 


336  THE    WIFE    OF 

told  us  everything  we  want  to  know  and  we  are  very 
much  obliged  to  you.  Is  Molly  your  sister  ?  I  think  Mr. 
Redmond  has  gone  to  fetch  her.  Of  course,  you  are 
tired  and  nervous.  It  has  been  quite  an  ordeal,  has  it 
not  ?  My  daughter  is  about  your  age,  and  I  hardly  think 
she  could  have  gone  through  it  as  bravely  as  you." 

But  Christine  continued  to  sob  until  the  return  of  the 
Secretary,  accompanied  by  her  sister,  who  took  her 
away,  while  the  three  men  turned  their  attention  to  the 
unhappy  Marks,  who  passed  a  most  miserable  hour,  but 
succeeded  in  convincing  them  he  knew  absolutely 
nothing  more  than  he  had  related. 

When  Mr.  Grimes  let  himself  into  the  hall  of  his 
house  on  Massachusetts  Avenue  he  executed  a  momen- 
tary pas  seul  before  hanging  up  his  hat. 

' '  Rivers,  my  friend, ' '  he  remarked  politely,  ' '  I  agree 
with  you  that  all  evidence  in  the  Roostchook  case  should 
be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  President." 

Late  that  evening  the  Secretary  sat  in  Mrs.  Red- 
mond's dressing-room  and  told  her  the  story  of  the 
recovered  papers.  He  even  drew  them  from  his  pocket 
and  spread  them  out  before  her  one  by  one,  gazing  at 
them  with  much  of  the  devouring  expression  a  mother 
bestows  on  a  lost  child.  And  she  listened  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  glistening  eyes,  following  the  narrative 
closely  with  little  gasps  of  astonishment. 

"I'm  glad,"  she  said,  "  oh,  so  glad,  John." 

"  I  should  be  better  satisfied,"  he  said,  "  were  it  not 
for  the  complication  about  Rivers.  Of  course,  the 
papers  changed  hands  again,  but  it 's  a  strange  case. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  hesitated. 

"  I  think,  dear,"  she  replied,  "  that  Mr.  Rivers  vis- 
ited the  Octagon  House  himself." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          337 

Then  she  told  him  the  history  of  Isabel's  ring,  and 
added  that  she  had  that  evening  returned  it  to  the  girl, 
who  had  announced  her  intention  of  giving  it  to  her 
father  to  do  with  as  he  thought  best. 

The  Secretary  sat  a  long  time  in  silence,  his  wife's 
hand  in  his. 

"  Estelle,"  he  said  at  last,  "  you  remember  the  old 
man  you  asked  me  to  appoint  as  watchman — Saunders, 
I  think  his  name  was  ? ' ' 

The  dark  lashes  quivered  slightly. 

' '  Yes,  dear, ' '  she  said,  ' '  what  of  him  ? ' ' 

"  He  died  last  night,"  said  the  Secretary;  "  suicide, 
they  think,  and,  Estelle " 

"Well,  dear?" 

"  He  was  discovered  by  the  police  in  the  Octagon 
House  when  they  searched  it  this  morning.  It  seems  he 
was  janitor  there.  I  believe  he  might  have  thrown  some 
light  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Leigh  if  we  had  only  known. 
I  gave  directions  that  he  be  decently  buried  at  my 
expense,  as  he  was  an  employe  of  the  Department, 
but  he  had  considerable  money  about  him.  Curious, 
wasn't  it?" 


338  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXXIV 


DAVID  LEIGH  had  turned  the  corner.  He  had,  hi  fact, 
made  rapid  strides  along  the  road  to  recovery,  so  much 
so  that  he  was  now  permitted  to  cross  the  hall  into  Mrs. 
Redmond's  sitting-room  every  afternoon,  where  he  held 
informal  receptions,  and  received  attention  enough,  he 
said,  to  turn  his  head  entirely.  To  which  remark  Mr. 
Grimes,  who  happened  to  be  present,  returned  concisely 
that  when  a  head  had  so  lately  been  cracked  it  was  well 
to  keep  it  steadily  in  one  position,  lest  the  crack  be 
revealed  to  the  world  in  general. 

David  settled  himself  in  the  armchair  consecrated  to 
his  use  and  glanced  about  expectantly. 

"  She's  not  here,"  volunteered  Mr.  Grimes  kindly; 
"  you're  an  hour  earlier  than  you  were  yesterday.  Get- 
ting feverish  again?" 

Leigh  blushed  with  the  consciousness  of  a  girl,  and 
the  Member  from  South  Dakota  laughed  in  great  good- 
humor. 

"  Fact  is,"  he  said,  crossing  his  legs  comfortably, 
' '  I  happened  in  when  I  knew  everybody  was  out  because 
I  want  to  have  a  talk,  if  you  think  you're  able.  Don't 
mind,  do  you?" 

"  No,"  said  David,  "  certainly  not.  I  want  to  talk, 
Mr.  Grimes,  or,  rather,  to  ask  questions,  and  you  know 
they  have  not  let  me  speak  of  anything  they  thought 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          339 

exciting.  I'm  very  grateful  for  the  care,  of  course,  but 
I  think  I  'm  getting  tired  of  being  nursed,  and  there  are 
things  I  must  know — questions  which  must  be  answered 
by  somebody." 

Mr.  Grimes  crossed  his  short  legs  as  comfortably  as 
his  rotundity  of  figure  would  permit. 

"  Fire  away,  sonny,"  he  remarked  genially.  "  When 
you've  finished  I've  got  a  few  inquiries  to  make  in 
return. ' ' 

"  But,"  said  Leigh,  hesitating,  "  it's  Department 
matters  I  want  to  talk  about  with  the  Secretary,  or  per- 
haps Senator  Byrd.  You're  very  kind,  Mr.  Grimes, 
but " 

Mr.  Grimes  chuckled  with  great  enjoyment. 

"I'm  your  man,"  he  said  importantly.  "  I  reckon 
that  just  now  I  am  as  well  up  in  the  affairs  of  the  nation, 
so  far  as  the  State  Department  is  concerned,  as  the  Sec- 
retary himself,  and  perhaps  a  little  better.  Things  got 
so  muddled  I  found  I'd  have  to  put  a  finger  in  the  pie 
after  all.  So  trust  your  Uncle  Joshua,  Davy,  and 
sail  in." 

When  Mr.  Grimes  referred  to  himself  as  Uncle 
Joshua  it  was  an  indication  he  was  well  pleased  with  the 
world,  and  he  applied  the  title  in  much  the  same  spirit 
with  which  he  usually  referred  to  his  country  as  Uncle 
Sam. 

"  They  make  a  great  team,"  he  remarked  modestly 
on  one  occasion,  "  your  Uncle  Joshua  and  your  Uncle 
Samuel." 

Leigh  rested  his  head  against  the  back  of  his  chair  a 
little  languidly.  He  found  himself  not  quite  so  ready 
to  accept  Mr.  Grimes 's  invitation  to  sail  in  as  he  had 
anticipated. 


340  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  The  Secretary  told  me,"  lie  said  slowly,  "  not  to 
worry  about  the  Roostchook  matter — that  it  was  all 
right.  Is  this  possible?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mr.  Grimes  cheerfully,  "  quite  pos- 
sible. Papers  turned  up  intact,  villain  spotted  by  your 
humble  servant.  Great  scene  for  the  stage,  David. 
Virtue  triumphant.  Vice  vanquished.  Red  fire. 
Tableau.  Curtain." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Leigh,  puzzled.  "  Where 
were  the  papers  found?" 

The  Member  from  South  Dakota  leaned  forward  that 
he  might  watch  his  companion's  face. 

' '  In  your  coat-pocket, ' '  he  said,  anticipating  an  aston- 
ished exclamation. 

But  the  young  man  merely  nodded  impatiently. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,"  he  said,  "  a  bundle  of  blank 
papers.  I  thought  you  had  really  found  them,  and  I 
wondered — 

He  checked  himself  abruptly. 

"  Blank  grandmother!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Grimes; 
"  they  were  the  real  thing,  but  it's  a  long  story.  Now, 
listen  carefully,  for  I  don't  like  to  repeat  myself,  being 
rather  short-winded. ' ' 

And  David  listened  with  breathless  attention  as  his 
companion  rapidly  sketched  the  events  of  the  period 
during  which  he  lay  unconscious  as  a  result  of  contact 
with  Colonel  St.  John's  brick." 

"  Marks,"  he  interrupted  once,  "  and  Miss  Christine 
Gray?  Why,  I  know  them  both.  Impossible!" 

' '  No !  Do  you,  though  ? ' '  said  Mr.  Grimes  with  inter- 
est. "  Well,  then,  perhaps  you'd  like  my  opinion  of 
your  friend  Marks.  He  is  either  the  deepest  double- 
dyed  rascal  in  the  country,  or  he  should  have  a  guardian 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          341 

appointed  to  look  after  him  when  he  walks  abroad.  I  've 
not  been  able  to  make  up  my  mind  which. ' ' 

"  He  is  not  a  villain,"  said  David,  laughing,  "  I 
would  stake  my  own  reputation  on  that  fact,  but  he  is — 
well,  unusual." 

' '  Unusual !  There  he  sat,  David,  and  there  we  sat — 
the  Secretary  of  State,  a  United  States  Senator,  and  a 
Member  of  Congress,  a  dignified  and  awe-inspiring  as- 
sembly to  confront  the  average  youth.  Did  we  faze 
him?  Not  we!  He  said  he  picked  up  the  papers — so 
he  believed — in  Lafayette  Park;  he  left  them  (if  his 
memory  did  not  fail  him)  at  the  door  of  Miss  Gray's 
boarding-house,  why  he  did  not  know.  That  was  all. 
We  simply  hammered  at  him,  but  not  an  inch  further 
did  we  get." 

"  Probably,"  interposed  David,  "  he  told  you  all  he 
knew. ' ' 

''Humph!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Grimes.  "Well,  that's 
all  he  did  tell  us.  And  the  Secret  Service  men  set  to 
watch  him  and  trace  his  very  thoughts  report  him  of 
unblemished  character  and  can  account  for  every  minute 
of  his  valuable  time  for  months.  But  to  resume." 

And  he  once  more  took  up  the  thread  of  his  narrative. 

"  Rivers,"  interrupted  David  again,  "  the  Member 
from  Virginia?  The  man  who " 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Grimes,  "  why  hesitate?" 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  hesitate,  I'm  sure.  I 
was  merely  going  to  ask  if  it  is  the  man  Miss  Byrd  is  to 
marry  ? ' ' 

"  No,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Grimes  explosively,  "not  by 
a  long  shot.  She's  going  to  marry  somebody  else  if  I 
know  anything  about  it." 

David  turned  his  face  into  the  shadow. 


342  THE    WIFE    OF 

"  Whom?"  he  inquired,  studiously  indifferent. 

Mr.  Grimes  did  not  reply.  Instead,  he  screwed  up 
one  eye  in  a  long,  deliberate  wink,  and  resumed  his 
story. 

"And  so,"  he  concluded  seriously,  "  I  went  to  the 
President  myself  and  laid  the  whole  matter  before  him. 
He  was  hard  to  convince,  but  I  had  my  proof,  only  I 
didn't  want  to  drag  that  little  Gray  girl  into  any  more 
unpleasantness  than  necessary.  He's  a  very  straight 
fellow  at  the  bottom, — the  President  is, — and  don't  tol- 
erate anything  slippery  if  he  knows  it,  so  he  sent  for 
Rivers. ' ' 

11  Well?" 

"  Well,  that's  all.  Rivers  is  going  abroad.  His  term 
expires  this  fall,  and  I  understand  his  district  will  have 
another  Representative  next  session,  as  the  gentleman 
from  Virginia  does  not  mean  to  run  again. ' ' 

"  Mr.  Grimes,"  said  David  thoughtfully. 

"  That's  me,"  returned  the  Member  promptly. 

"  You've  told  me  about  the  first  paper  which  disap- 
peared, but  how  about  the  last,  the  synopsis,  you  know  ? ' ' 

' '  The  Secretary  found  it  in  his  desk. ' ' 

"  What?"  exclaimed  Leigh  in  astonishment. 

Mr.  Grimes  nodded. 

"  In  his  desk,  here  at  the  house,"  he  repeated.  "  He 
thinks  it  got  caught  in  the  drawer  and  was  overlooked. 
It's  queer,  very  queer." 

Leigh  was  sitting  upright,  a  bewildered  expression 
on  his  face. 

' '  How  did  it  get  there  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Ah,"  returned  his  companion,  "  I  don't  know. 
What's  more,  I  didn't  ask.  '  There  are  more  things  in 
heaven  and  earth, '  you  know,  David,  and  I  'd  no  wish  to 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         343 

upset  another  hornets'  nest.  The  main  point  is  that 
they  were  intact.  The  Secretary  thinks  he  put  them 
there  and  forgot  it  and  deplores  his  absentmindedness. 
I  think— 

"  Yes,"  said  Leigh  breathlessly,  "  what  do  you 
think?" 

"  Well,"  returned  the  stout  gentleman,  "  since  I've 
been  quoting  Shakespeare,  I'll  do  it  again.  It's  my 
opinion  '  there  is  something  rotten  in  the  State  of  Den- 
mark' as  well  as  the  Hon.  Charles  Rivers  of  Virginia, 
but  I  intend  not  to  make  or  suggest  any  further  inves- 
tigations, and  I  strongly  advise  you  to  follow  my  ex- 
ample. Now,  young  man,  a  few  questions  on  my  part. 
What  the  devil  were  you  doing  in  the  Octagon  House 
and  who  hit  you?  Out  with  it,  for  I  don't  take  much 
stock  in  your  not  knowing. ' ' 

Leigh  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes 
wearily;  the  conversation  had  been  somewhat  ex- 
hausting. 

"  Mr.  Grimes,"  he  said  reluctantly,  "I'm  afraid  I've 
been  an  awful  fool." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,  my  boy,  young  men  often  are. 
But  it's  something  if  you  recognize  the  fact.  Let's  hear 
about  it." 

' '  I  believed  I  knew  who  took  those  papers.  The  night 
of  the  ball  here  I  discovered,  as  I  thought,  a  clue.  It 
wasn  't  much,  just  a  bit  of  State  Department  paper  with 
a  few  words  on  it,  but  I  saw  who  dropped  it.  I  unfor- 
tunately lost  it  myself  and  came  back  here  after  every- 
one was  gone  and  made  a  thorough  search.  I  went  over 
every  inch  of  the  floor,  but  it  wasn't  there.  I  had 
papers  on  the  brain  and  wanted  to  find  them  the  worst 
way,  and  suddenly  remembered  the  Secretary's  desk  in 


344  THE    WIFE    OF 

the  library.  I  thought  it  possible  he  might  have  put 
them  there  (as  you  say  he  did  the  synopsis),  so  I  even 
looked  through  it." 

He  paused  an  instant,  then  continued: 
"  Well,  they  weren't  there,  so  I  went  home  without 
meeting  anyone,  although  I  had  a  curious  sensation  of 
being  watched  and  followed.  The  next  day  the  Secre- 
tary went  to  the  White  House  and  brought  back  the 
synopsis.  He  was  much  troubled,  and  talked  the  matter 
over  with  Senator  Byrd  and  Mr.  Rivers,  who  returned 
with  him.  He  put  the  paper  in  his  desk,  but  went  to 
receive  the  diplomats  without  removing  the  key.  Miss 
Byrd  came  in  to  meet  her  father,  and  I  took  her  to  the 
State  Department  library.  We  stayed  a  long  time,  and 
when  I  got  back  the  Secretary  was  just  going  out  to 
lunch  with  Mrs.  Redmond.  I  found  something  on  the 
floor  by  the  desk  which  made  me  anxious.  Another  clue, 
I  thought. 

' '  Well,  of  course,  the  next  thing  was  the  discovery  of 
the  loss  of  the  synopsis.  I  worried  a  good  deal  over  it, 
and  determined  to  go  through  the  Secretary's  private 
desk  myself,  thinking  it  might  have  caught  somewhere, 
for  it  wasn't  a  bulky  document,  like  the  other. 

"  The  night  after  Christmas  I  felt  out  of  sorts  with 
the  world  and  didn't  want  to  go  anywhere  or  do  any- 
thing, so  I  started  for  the  Department  to  get  up  some 
back  work.     While  I  was  there  I  happened  to  think  of 
looking  up  the  paper.    I  had  a  key  which  Mr.  Redmond 
had  once  given  me,  and  I  made  a  thorough  search,  but 
the  paper  was  not  to  be  found.     It  was  late  when  I 
left- 
Leigh  paused  and  endeavored  to  collect  his  thoughts. 
"Just  why  I  turned  up  New  York  Avenue  I  don't 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          345 

know.  I  suppose  I  was  absorbed  in  thought,  for  I  had 
been  making  notes  on  some  important  matters  to  bring 
to  the  attention  of  the  Secretary  in  the  morning  and  had 
put  some  loose  bits  of  paper  in  my  pocket,  intending  to 
elaborate  them  when  I  got  home,  for  I  wasn't  sleepy. 

"  Well,  I  suddenly  discovered  I  was  going  the  wrong 
way  and  turned  down  an  alley  as  a  short  cut  home.  It 
ran  back  of  the  Octagon  House  and  was  dark  and  lonely 
enough,  with  the  high  brick  wall  and  vacant  old  house, 
and  I  had  some  idea  of  going  back,  although  I  had 
often  used  it  before  as  a  short  cut.  However,  I  kept 
on  until  I  got  opposite  a  break  in  the  wall,  when  some- 
thing— curiosity,  I  suppose — made  me  stop  and  look 
through. ' ' 

' '  Well  ? ' '  inquired  Mr.  Grimes  with  interest. 

"  Well,"  said  Leigh  simply,  "  that's  all.  The  next 
thing  I  knew  I  was  here,  awfully  light-headed  and 
queer-feeling,  with  Miss  Mary  Gray  nursing  me  and 
everybody  wonderfully  kind,  Mrs.  Redmond  sitting  with 
me,  Miss  Byrd  sending  me  flowers,  the  Secretary  acting 
as  though  I  were  his  own  son,  and  you,  Mr.  Grimes, 
coming  to  see  me  every  day  and  even  keeping  my  room 
and  belongings  at  the  boarding-house  undisturbed.  I 
don't  know  how  to  thank  you." 

But  Mr.  Grimes  was  looking  in  his  card-case  and  did 
not  reply. 

"  Was  the  scrap  of  paper  you  found  and  lost  again 
at  the  ball  anything  like  this  ? "  he  demanded,  producing 
a  dingy  bit  with  a  few  words  upon  it. 

'  That  is  it!"  said  David  eagerly.    "  Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

'  Picked  it  up  myself,"  returned  Mr.  Grimes,  tossing 
it  into  the  fire,  "  and  I  think  that's  the  best  place  for  it. 


346  THE    WIFE    OF 

Of  course,  the  scrap  Rivers  found  in  the  Octagon  House 
was  part  of  your  notes  and  dropped  from  your  pocket. ' ' 

The  round,  red  face  of  the  Member  from  South  Dakota 
was  very  serious  as  he  watched  the  bit  of  tri-colored 
cord  blaze  and  blacken  in  the  hearth. 

"  David,"  he  said  slowly,  "  whom  did  you  suspect?" 

Leigh  crimsoned  and  turned  his  face  into  the  shadow. 

"  You  won't  say?  Well,  it's  all  right.  Only  under- 
stand clearly  that  the  incident  is  closed  irrevocably,  and 
remember  that  circumstantial  evidence  is  often  mislead- 
ing. You  came  perilously  near  being  charged  with  a 
serious  crime,  and  I  realize  you  were  in  a  mighty  tight 
box,  but  you're  well  out  of  it,  after  all.  The  old  chap 
found  dead  in  the  Octagon  House  I  take  to  be  respon- 
sible for  your  cracked  skull,  but  he  isn't  going  to  make 
any  explanations,  and  so,  David,  I  propose  the  subject 
of  the  Roostchook  papers  be  tabooed  in  future.  Talking 
will  do  no  good,  so  we'll  drop  the  subject." 

"  I've  been  a  fool,  that's  all,"  said  Leigh  quietly, 
"and— I'm  glad  of  it." 

A  rustle  of  skirts  became  apparent  in  the  hall,  and 
Mr.  Grimes  rose  with  alacrity. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  need  me  any  more,"  he  remarked 
cheerfully,  "  for  there  are  Mrs.  Redmond  and  Miss 
Byrd,  and  if  that  is  not  enough  for  one  fellow,  I  don't 
know  what  is. ' ' 

But  it  was  only  Isabel  who  entered  as  the  Congress- 
man went  out — her  cheeks  glowing  with  the  cold  air 
and  her  eyes  shining  with  a  soft  brightness  Leigh  thought 
pleasant  to  look  upon. 

She  told  him  various  little  items  of  news  she  thought 
would  interest  him,  and  finally  lapsed  into  silence  as  the 
daylight  waned  and  shadows  filled  the  room. 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          347 

Leigh  looked  at  the  bright  hair,  with  the  firelight 
playing  over  it,  and  at  the  curve  of  the  cheek,  against 
which  the  dark  lashes  rested. 

"  Isabel,"  he  whispered. 

Her  color  faded,  then  suddenly  returned,  dying  her 
face  with  the  tint  of  a  wild-rose.  David  forgot  he  was 
merely  an  impecunious  private  secretary  and  she  the 
daughter  of  Senator  Byrd  as  he  leaned  forward  and 
caught  her  hands.  The  memory  of  their  relative  posi- 
tions, however,  leaped  obnoxiously  to  the  fore  and 
checked  the  words  trembling  upon  his  lips,  so  he  released 
the  little  hands  and  sank  back  in  his  chair,  suddenly 
weak  and  exhausted. 

Isabel  looked  anxiously  at  the  pale  face  and  closed 
eyes,  then  her  lips  curved  with  the  ghost  of  a  smile  and 
the  dimple  in  her  cheek  showed  a  decided  inclination  to 
appear.  She  left  her  low  divan  and  seated  herself  upon 
the  arm  of  his  large  chair,  her  lips  close  to  his  ear. 

"  David,"  she  whispered  softly,  "I'm  waiting — 
go  on.'1 


348  THE    WIFE    OF 


XXXV 


THE  Secretary  stood  in  his  library  holding  in  his  hand 
a  sheet  of  paper,  as  he  had  previously  held  the  draught  of 
his  resignation. 

To-day,  however,  there  was  an  erectness  in  his  attitude 
very  different  from  the  air  of  general  depression  which 
had  marked  the  former  occasion.  Two  chairs  sociably 
drawn  together  before  the  fire  indicated  that  he  had 
recently  entertained  a  visitor,  and  an  indescribable  some- 
thing about  them  suggested  that  the  guest  had  been 
welcome. 

Now,  however,  judging  from  his  expectant  glances  at 
the  clock  and  out  of  the  window,  he  expected  someone 
else. 

"  How  long  she  stays!"  he  exclaimed  impatiently. 
"Ah,  at  last!" 

For  the  front  door  had  opened  and  shut  and  he  heard 
Mrs.  Redmond's  voice  in  the  hall. 

"  Suppose  you  look  in  on  Mr.  Leigh  in  my  sitting- 
room,  Isabel,"  she  was  saying;  "  I  will  join  you 
shortly." 

The  Secretary  drew  aside  the  heavy  portiere  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  I  Ve  been  watching  for  you, ' '  he  said ;  ' '  you  prom- 
ised to  be  home  early,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  she  assented,  "  and  now  I  want  to  tell  you 


349 

about  my  afternoon.  There  is  something  I  want  to  do 
very,  very  much. ' ' 

"And  I  too  have  something  to  tell  you,"  he  said. 
' '  Come  to  the  fire ;  you  must  be  cold. ' ' 

Mrs.  Redmond  paused  in  the  act  of  removing  her 
heavy  furs  and  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"  Something  has  happened,"  she  exclaimed  suddenly, 
"  something  nice.  You  have  had  a  visitor.  Oh  John, 
tell  me!" 

"  Yes,  dear,  a  visitor — the  President.  Don't  look  so 
startled,  he  used  to  come  sometimes,  you  know." 

"  But  not  lately,"  she  replied,  "  not  since " 

"  Listen,"  he  continued.  "  This  morning  I  sent  in 
my  resignation.  I  owed  it  to  myself  to  do  so  even 
though  the  missing  papers  have  all  been  found. ' ' 

"  I  don't  care  a  bit  now,"  she  interrupted,  "  for 
there  could  be  no  stigma  attached  to  your  name. 
Well?" 

"  Well,  Estelle,  as  I  said,  I  sent  it  in  this  morning, 
and  this  afternoon  the  President  brought  it  here  and 
asked  me  to  withdraw  it  as  a  personal  favor  to  himself. ' ' 

"And  you,"  she  said,  "  what  did  you  say  to  him?" 

"  I  said,"  returned  the  Secretary,  "  that  I  only 
wished  to  serve  my  country  honestly,  and  that  some- 
times such  service  was  best  rendered  by  withdrawal  from 
public  office  when  age  or  ill-health  had  in  any  way 
impaired  the  faculties." 

"And  he?" 

"  He  said  all  sorts  of  kind  things,  dear,  and  was  very 
complimentary.  He  apologized  for  his  attitude  during 
this  trouble  and  said  he  had  been  much  worried,  and 
facts  falsely  represented  to  him.  He  was  genuinely 
anxious  that  I  should  remain,  and  so  I  agreed  to  do  so. 


350  THE    WIFE    OF 

There  will  be  no  official  record  of  my  resignation.  He 
left  it  here  with  me,  and  I  shall  destroy  the  copy  in  the 
files  of  the  State  Department.  I  thought — 

The  Secretary  paused  and  smiled. 

"Well,  John?" 

"  I  thought,  Estelle,  that  perhaps  you  would  enjoy 
burning  it.  You  seemed  to  take  the  matter  very  much 
to  heart  the  other  day. ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  should,"  she  exclaimed  quickly,  "  give  it  to 
me  at  once ! ' ' 

The  Secretary  seated  himself  upon  the  couch  and 
drew  his  wife  down  beside  him.  The  sheet  of  paper 
burned  brightly,  then  charred  and  crumbled,  and  Mrs. 
Kedmond,  watching  it,  remembered,  with  a  tightening 
of  the  throat,  the  cellar  of  the  Octagon  House  and  the 
blaze  of  the  burning  maps.  Fire  was  merciful  at  times 
as  well  as  terrible,  she  thought. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Redmond  cheerfully,  "  I've 
told  you  my  news,  what  is  yours  ? ' ' 

"  It  isn't  news  exactly.  I  went  to  see  Miss  Gray  this 
afternoon.  Her  pretty  little  sister  is  going  to  be 
married. ' ' 

"  Indeed,"  exclaimed  the  Secretary,  "  I  am  heartily 
glad  to  hear  it!" 

"And  I  thought,"  continued  Mrs.  Redmond,  her  eyes 
upon  the  plain  gold  band  on  her  left  hand,  "  I  thought, 
John,  I  should  like  to  help  her.  They  are  two  girls  alone 
in  the  world  without  money,  and  it's  such  a  dreary 
boarding-house.  You  don't  mind?" 

' '  Did  you  think  I  would  object  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  wouldn't,  but  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about  it,  of  course.  I  should  like  her  to  have  a  nice 
little  wedding  and  some  pretty  clothes,  such  as  every 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          351 

girl  longs  for  and  should  have  when  she  marries.  She 
brought  us  back  those  papers,  you  know,  and  I  feel  we 
owe  her  a  tremendous  debt  of  gratitude — at  least,  I  do. " 

"  Is  Marks  the  happy  man?"  inquired  Mr.  Kedmond, 
laughing. 

'  His  name  is  Harry,  and  his  regiment  is  in  Alaska — 
that  is  all  I  know  about  him,  John.  But  it's  immaterial. 
He  gets  a  leave  next  month  and  can  come  on,  and  I  mean 
he  shall  find  Christine  daintily  fitted  out,  with  pretty 
things,  dear,  as  well  as  useful.  I  'm  extravagant,  you 
know,  and  I  do  love  clothes — so  does  she,  poor  child. 
So  when  Harry  comes  we  will  have  a  nice  little  wedding 
here  in  this  house,  and  you'll  give  the  bride  away.  Do 
you  agree?" 

The  Secretary  held  his  wife  closer  and  kissed  her 
forehead. 

"  It 's  like  you  to  think  of  it,  Estelle, ' '  he  said  fondly ; 
' '  of  course  I  agree.  And  speaking  of  brides, ' '  he  added, 
"  I  wonder  how  the  young  people  upstairs  are  coming 
on?" 

The  yfamg  people  were  getting  on  extremely  well  up- 
stairs, although  their  conversation  was  of  a  disjointed 
and  fragmentary  character  incapable  of  being  properly 
recorded,  and  the  disorder  of  Isabel's  red-gold  hair  was 
more  apparent  than  usual. 

'  It  glitters,"  said  David,  carefully  transferring  a 

strand  from  his  coat  to  his  card-case,  "  like  spun  gold." 

'  I  should  think,"  said  Isabel  with  an  attempt  at  a 

frown,  "  you  might  have  asked  for  a  lock  of  it  by  this 

time,  but  perhaps  you  don't  want  it." 

The  last  words  were  muffled,  owing  to  a  temporary 
eclipse  of  two  heads  by  the  back  of  one  chair. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  said  suddenly,  drawing  away  from 


352  THE    WIFE    OF 

him,  "  by  the  way,  David,  there's  something  I  want  to 
know.  Why  did  you  take  those  papers?" 

"  What  papers?" 

"  The  blank  bundle  labelled  '  Roostchook'  from  our 
library  table.  I  saw  you  put  them  in  your  pocket. ' ' 

"  Some  valuable  papers  were  missing  from  the  De- 
partment on  that  subject,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and  I 
thought  perhaps  I  had  found  them,  so  put  them  in  my 
pocket  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  meaning  to  return 
them  to  the  Secretary  or  your  father.  When  I  found 
they  were  blanks  I  said  no  more  about  it,  but  I  never 
understood ' ' 

He  paused  abruptly. 

"  I  do,"  returned  Isabel  sagely.  "  Oh,  I'm  wiser 
than  you  think.  Mr.  Rivers " 

"  Hateful  name,"  interposed  Leigh  quickly. 

"  We  will  call  him  the  Unmentionable,  if  you  like  it 
any  better.  Well,  anyhow,  he  knew  you  were  coming 
and  put  that  package  there  to  see  if  you  would  take  it. 
He  was  trying  to  prove  you  guilty  of  something,  David, 
I  don't  just  understand  what,  but  you  fell  into  the  trap 
like  a  blind  bat  and  put  it  in  your  pocket.  I  thought  I 
should  have  died  when  I  saw  you  do  it." 

Leigh  stared  at  her  incredulously. 

"And  does  your  father  think  I  stole  that  package  of 
papers  believing  them  genuine,  and  kept  quiet  about 
it?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  returned  Isabel,  with  a  shake  of  the  head, 
"  he  doesn't  think  anything  of  the  kind,  for  I  fixed  up 
another  package  and  father  and  the  Unmentionable 
found  it.  But  7  thought  you  took  it,  David,  and  I  was 
very  miserable — so  miserable  that  I  got  engaged." 

"  But  how  you  must  have  despised  me." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          353 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  she  interrupted;  "  I  tried  to,  but  I 
couldn't,  so  I  despised  myself  for  not  being  able  to 
despise  you.  He — the  Unmentionable — said  all  sorts  of 
nasty  things  about  you  and  what  he  meant  should  hap- 
pen to  you,  so  I  stole  out  that  evening  to  tell  you  about 
it,  and  to  ask  you  not  to  do  it  again,  whatever  it  was 
you  did  do — and  it  was  nothing,  after  all,  was  it?" 

"  No,  Isabel,"  returned  Leigh  anxiously,  "  I've  done 
nothing  I  am  ashamed  of.  But  you  said  you  went  to  see 
me.  When  was  it,  and  where  did  you  go  ? " 

"  It  was  one  Thursday,"  she  said,  "  and  I  went  to 
your  lodging,  but  just  as  I  got  nearly  there  you  came 
out  the  door  and  went  down  the  street.  I  tried  to  over- 
take you,  but  you  walked  too  fast  for  me.  You  went 
to  the  old  part  of  the  city  and  I  kept  on  following,  even 
down  a  horrid,  muddy  alley,  and  it  was  raining  and 
very  dark.  In  the  alley  I  lost  you,  but  I  thought  I  saw 
you  go  through  a  hole  in  the  wall,  so  I  kept  on.  I  really 
think  then  I  was  afraid  to  go  back.  The  place  turned 
out  to  be  the  Octagon  House,  and  I  was  so  relieved  when 
I  knew  where  I  was  that  I  thought  I  'd  just  run  through 
it  and  out  on  Eighteenth  Street,  on  the  other  side,  you 
know,  so  I  need  not  go  back  by  way  of  the  alley." 

"  But,"  interrupted  Leigh,  "  I  never  went  to  the 
Octagon  House  until  the  night  my  friend  hit  me  with 
the  brick  and  carried  me  in." 

"  Oh,  I  know.  That  was  the  awful  part.  It  wasn't 
you  at  all,  David.  It  was — put  your  ear  very  close — 
Count  Valdmir.  He  went  into  a  room  with  a  light  in  it 
and  an  old  man  met  him.  I  was  very  frightened  and 
hid  in  a  little  place  off  the  dining-room,  with  a  secret 
door  you  know.  They  talked  a  long  time,  and  the  old 
man  seemed  afraid  of  him,  but  I  couldn't  distinguish 

23 


354  THE    WIFE    OF 

what  they  said.  I  tried  to  get  out  of  the  window  on 
Eighteenth  Street,  but  it  wouldn't  budge,  and  I  caught 
my  hair  on  the  rough  wood  and  tore  my  dress.  My 
heart  beat  so  I  thought  they  must  hear  it.  By  and  by 
Count  Valdmir  left  and  I  took  the  opportunity  to  rush 
through  the  hall  out  into  the  garden  again;  even  the 
alley  was  better  than  that  awful  house.  I  got  wet 
coming  home  and  was  late  for  dinner,  and  Mr.  Lynd- 
hurst  kept  asking  me  inconvenient  questions.  It  was 
dreadful.  But  where  did  you  go,  David  ? ' ' 

"  I  sometimes  use  that  alley  as  a  short  cut  from  street 
to  street, ' '  he  replied,  ' '  and  have  a  recollection  of  doing 
so  one  Thursday  evening  when  I  went  into  that  part  of 
the  city  on  an  errand  to  one  of  the  clerks  in  the  State 
Department.  I  had  an  engagement  later  and  must  have 
taken  the  shortest  way  of  getting  there,  and  in  the  dark- 
ness you  lost  me.  But,  oh,  Isabel,  when  I  think  that 
you  did  it  for  me,  and  what  might  have  happened " 

The  remainder  of  the  sentence  was  unintelligible,  but 
seemed  satisfactory. 

' '  I  wonder, ' '  he  said  after  a  long  silence,  ' '  what  your 
aunt  and  father  will  think." 

"  Oh,"  responded  Miss  Byrd  with  an  air  of  easy 
assurance, ' '  Aunt  Mary  doesn  't  matter  and  father  thinks 
as  I  do  on  such  subjects." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE         355 


XXXVI 


THE  last  door  slammed,  and  the  last  carriage  rolled 
away.  Sleepy  servants  thankfully  began  to  set  the 
house  to  rights,  for  the  Secretary  and  Mrs.  Redmond 
had  entertained  the  President  and  members  of  the  Cabi- 
net at  dinner  and  the  guests  had  at  last  departed.  Mrs. 
Redmond  looked  at  her  husband  and  smiled. 

"  Well,  it's  over,"  she  remarked.  "  I  never  enjoyed 
a  Cabinet  dinner  so  much  before.  And  the  season  is 
over  too.  I  am  not  sorry. ' ' 

"  Tired?"  questioned  the  Secretary.  "  Come  with 
me  into  the  library.  I  must  smoke  my  cigar,  and  I'd 
like  your  society  to  improve  the  flavor." 

"A  speech  worthy  Monsieur  du  Pre  himself,"  she  re- 
turned as  they  entered  the  library.  "  "What  a  famous 
fire." 

"  How  the  diplomatic  world  changes,"  remarked  the 
Secretary,  striking  a  match.  ' '  Valdmir  gone,  and  Lynd- 
hurst  going.  I  fancy  the  latter  was  rather  hard  hit  by 
Isabel ;  he  tells  me  he  intends  to  give  up  diplomacy  and 
settle  down  into  an  English  squire.  I  hope  he  may  find 
some  nice  girl  at  home  waiting  for  him." 

'  I  hope  so  too,  John.  Mr.  Lyndhurst  is  every  inch 
a  gentleman  as  well  as  a  nobleman.  He  could  not  soil 
his  hands  with  anything  unworthy  of  him." 

'  Why  should  he  ? "  inquired  the  Secretary,  surprised. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  her  face  grew  very  thoughtful 


356  THE    WIFE    OF 

as  she  gazed  into  the  fire,  and  the  Secretary  felt  the  hand 
in  his  grow  suddenly  cold. 

"  Now  Valdmir,"  he  continued,  gently  chafing  the 
cold  hand,  "  was  very  different.  In  spite  of  his  polish 
and  brilliancy,  I  never  liked  him.  Wonderfully  clever 
fellow,  though,  Estelle.  But  there  was  a  hardness  about 
him  quite  repellent  to  me  and  I  believe  him  to  be  un- 
scrupulous and  without  mercy.  Heaven  help  the 
woman,  for  instance,  who  was  in  his  power." 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  reply.  The  handsome 
library,  lined  with  richly  bound  volumes,  some  of  them 
almost  priceless,  had  vanished,  and  she  was  again  in  the 
Octagon  House  with  Count  Valdmir,  they  two  alone  in 
the  great  dark  cellar  with  only  the  dead  man  above  to 
keep  watch. 

"  I  am  cold,"  she  had  said. 

"  Then,  Madame,"  he  had  responded,  "  we  will  light 
the  fire." 

She  remembered  the  lifting  of  the  candle  and  the 
flickering  of  the  flame  in  the  draught  from  the  chimney. 
Also  the  mass  of  ashes  upon  the  hearth  after  the  maps 
were  burned. ' ' 

"  You  are  not  just  to  Count  Valdmir,  dear,"  she  said 
gently.  "  I  know  of  one  woman  to  whom  he  was  both 
merciful  and  generous." 

"  Well,"  he  insisted,  laughing,  "I'm  glad  to  hear  it, 
but  I'm  willing  to  wager  she  was  the  exception  and  not 
the  rule." 

"  Turn  off  the  lights,"  she  said,  "  I  want  just  the 
fire.  That's  light  enough  for  confidences,  isn't  it, 
John?" 

"  How  dull  your  opals  are  to-night,"  remarked  Mr. 
Redmond  as  he  complied,  "  they  scarcely  glow  at  all." 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          357 

He  lifted  the  jewel  at  her  throat  and  looked  curiously 
at  it  as  she  drew  a  footstool  to  his  chair  and  leaned  her 
head  against  his  knee. 

"  John,"  she  said  after  a  long  silence,  "  of  what  are 
you  thinking?" 

"  Of  you,  dear,  and  of  the  completeness  of  our  life 
together.  It  is  so  wonderfully  satisfying." 

A  scarlet  flame  played  about  the  opal  for  an  instant, 
then  faded,  and  the  stone  hung  cold  and  colorless. 

"  I  read  somewhere,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that  between 
a  man  and  wife  should  be  perfect  confidence ;  that  there 
should  be  no  reservations  one  from  another;  that  with- 
out such  confidence  real  happiness  was  impossible  and 
love  could  not  endure.  Do  you  believe  this,  John  ? ' ' 

The  Secretary  watched  the  smoke  of  his  cigar  fade 
into  space. 

"It  is  the  generally  accepted  theory,  Estelle,"  he 
said  quietly,  "  but,  as  you  know,  I  do  not  believe  in  it. 
Between  a  man  and  woman — in  fact,  between  any  two 
human  beings — real  happiness  is  impossible  without 
some  reservation.  Too  close  an  intimacy  brings  with 
it  carelessness  and  contempt.  In  my  opinion,  a  man 
has  no  more  right  to  raise  the  curtain  from  his  wife's 
silence  than  he  has  to  enter  her  dressing-room  unin- 
vited." 

"  You  really  think  so?" 

' '  I  know  it,  Estelle.  Endless  misery  is  brought  about 
and  useless  suffering  inflicted  upon  the  innocent  by  mis- 
taken ideas  of  duty — hysterical  so-called  confessions, 
which  open  wounds  about  to  heal,  leaving  ugly,  ever- 
present  scars  to  mark  the  place.  It's  my  hobby,  you 
know.  Why  did  you  get  me  started  on  it?" 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  quite  often,  John,  I  think 


358  THE    WIFE    OF 

it  would  be  better  if  I  told  you  more  about  my  early  life. 
You  take  me  too  much  on  trust. ' ' 

11  Love  brings  with  it  faith,  dearest.  The  book  of  the 
past  is  closed  forever.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  open  it 
for  me." 

"  But,"  she  persisted,  "  once  I  did  you  a  great  in- 
jury. I  would  die  for  you,  gladly,  but  I  nearly  wrecked 
your  life  and  mine." 

He  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  her  lips. 

' '  Hush,  dear, ' '  he  said, ' '  you  don 't  know  what  you  're 
saying.  "Whatever  it  was, — whatever  you  imagine  you 
have  done, — don't  tell  me.  I  do  not  want  to  know. 
Only  one  thing  matters.  Do  you  love  me  still,  Estelle — 
it  isn't  that?  Let  me  look  into  your  eyes." 

The  fire  flamed  brilliantly  as  he  bent  over  her.  The 
dark  lashes,  heavy  with  tears,  were  slowly  raised,  and 
the  Secretary  gazed  through  the  clear  blue  eyes  into  the 
heart  of  the  woman  he  had  married. 


The  log  charred  and  fell  apart. 

"  Estelle,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  believe  you  are  asleep.'* 

"  No,"  she  returned  gently,  "  only  very,  very  happy, 
John ;  that  is  why  I  was  quiet. ' ' 

"  We  have  been  sitting  here  an  unconscionable  time," 
he  said,  rising.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  was  thinking 
about  to  let  you  do  it.  I  suppose  I  must  have  been 
happy  too,  eh,  Mrs.  Redmond?" 

He  turned  on  the  lights  as  he  spoke  and  paused  in 
astonishment. 

"Estelle,"  he  ejaculated,  "look  at  your  opals! 
.What  can  have  happened  to  them  ? ' ' 

The  jewels  were  cold  and  lifeless,  without  color  or  fire, 


THE    SECRETARY    OF    STATE          359 

and  crossed  by  a  network  of  innumerable  tiny  cracks. 
She  slowly  removed  the  necklace  and  girdle  and  took 
the  crescent  from  her  hair.  The  diamonds  flashed  as 
brilliantly  as  ever,  but  the  opals  were  worthless  bits  of 
broken  stone. 

As  she  gazed  incredulously  at  them  she  remembered 
the  history  of  the  Khedive's  opals  as  related  by  Count 
Valdmir,  and  her  lips  parted  in  a  tremulous  smile. 

"  Extraordinary!"  said  the  Secretary,  examining  the 
pendant  close  to  the  light. 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Redmond  softly,  "I  am  too 
happy  to  wear  opals,  John." 

"  I'll  take  them  to  a  jeweller,"  he  responded,  "  and 
see  what  can  be  done,  but  I  think  you  will  never  wear 
them  again.  Such  wonderful  stones  too !  Well,  Estelle, 
let  us  have  a  glass  of  wine.  We  need  it  after  this  last 
shock.  Come,  I  insist,  for  you  must  be  very  tired." 

She  followed  him  to  the  dining-room  and  held  the 
sparkling  glass  thoughtfully. 

"  The  last  of  the  season,"  she  said;  "  even  the  opals 
are  ended.  It's  over — all  over.  Now,  John," — she 
raised  her  glass, — "  here's  to  the  best  man  in  the  whole 
world — the  Secretary  of  State." 

The  Secretary  smiled  and  touched  her  glass  with  his. 

"  First,"  he  said  fondly,  "  to  the  wife  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  State." 


THE   END 


NEW  SAMARIA 

BY  S.  WEIR  MITCHELL 


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Two  of  the  best  short  stories  by  the  author  of 
"Hugh  Wynne."  One  is  about  a  stranded  million- 
aire who  finds  how  "clothes  make  the  man,"  and 
the  other  is  a  touching  love-tale  introducing  the  gray 
of  Autumn  and  the  bloom  of  May. 


POKETOWN    PEOPLE 

BY  ELLA  MIDDLETON  TYBOUT 


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A  collection  of  irresistibly  funny  stories  of  negro 
humor  by  a  Southern  woman  who  faithfully  pictures 
the  old-time  darkey.  The  original  sketches  in  color 
are  a  feature. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


An  Exquisite   Gift -Book 

KITTY  OF  THE  ROSES 

BY  RALPH  HENRY  BARBOUR 


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A  charming  love-story,  full  of  sunshine,  flowers, 
and  tender  sentiment,  in  which  the  mistress  of  a  rose- 
garden  and  a  young  architect  are  the  central  figures. 
Daintily  illustrated  and  bound.  Artistic  decorations 
on  every  page  in  tint  and  color  by  Frederic  J.  von 
Rapp.  Cover  in  vellum  and  gold  leaf  with  inlaid 
drawing  in  three  colors.  Packed  in  decorated  box. 

"  We  cannot  find  words  strong  enough 
to  depict  the  beauty,  sweetness,  and  chas- 
tity of  the  charming  little  love-story, 
'Kitty  of  the  Roses.'  " — JV.  Y.  American. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


BY  E.  F.  BENSON 


THE     CHALLONERS 

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"Mr.  Benson's  latest  novel,  'The  Challoners,'  is  probably  the 
best  thing  he  has  done  so  far.  In  '  The  Challoners'  his  happiest 
faculty,  that  of  putting  smart  society  on  paper,  is  shown  to  its  best 
advantage.  He  is  at  home  with  English  people,  and  when  he 
attempts  to  picture  the  heights  and  depths  of  a  father' s  despair  when 
he  sees  his  children  taking  what  is  to  him  a  plunge  into  moral 
perdition,  his  work  is  deft  and  true  and  commendably  sincere.  An 
entertaining,  well-written  story,  with  deep  feeling  in  it." — Chicago 
Record-  Hera  Id. 

"  '  The  Challoners'  is  conceived  upon  a  plane  that  lifts  it  immedi- 
ately to  the  highest  rank  in  fiction.  One  has  to  recall  the  works  of 
Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  Reade  to  find  a  production  of  equal  dignity 
and  grasp.  Indeed,  there  is  much  in  it  that  will  bear  comparison 
with  George  Eliot's  performances.  It  is  impossible  to  read  it  without 
realizing  the  great  burden  that  oppresses  the  clergyman  who  sees  his 
son  and  daughter  departing  from  the  practices  and  rules  he  in  his 
sufficiency  has  laid  down  to  govern  them." — The  Index. 


THE  IMAGE  IN  THE  SAND 

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"  The  author  of  '  Dodo"  has  written  a  '  thriller.'  It  is  a  spiritual- 
istic story.  Mr.  Benson  sets  part  of  his  story  in  the  East,  and  part  in 
London,  and  tells  it  in  a  manner  to  keep  the  reader  wide  awake  and 
interested  to  the  end."  —  Globe,  New  York. 

"Spiritualism,  hypnotism,  demoniac  possession,  white  and  black 
magic,  Oriental  theosophy — all  are  found  among  the  component  parts 
of  this  tale.  The  denouement  is  decidedly  original  and  highly  imagi- 
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strong  appeal  to  every  one  who  has  any  love  for  the  marvellous  and 
the  unknown — or  who  appreciates  a  very  well-written  story." — 
Brooklyn  Eagle. 

J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


HEART   OF   LYNN 

By   MARY   STEWART    CUTTING 

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"  The  tale,  sad  and  merry,  of  a  family  fallen  upon  hard 
times,  of  their  struggles,  and  the  final  happy  ending  to  all 
their  woes.  The  different  girl  characters  are  admirably  done, 
the  two  boys  are  manly,  wholesome  fellows,  and  the  whole 
story  tells  itself  naturally,  with  just  enough  of  romance,  and 
mystery,  and  fun." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"Mrs.  Cutting's  '  Heart  of  Lynn'  is  a  sunshiny  domestic 
story  of  the  Alcott  variety.  There  is  a  bevy  of  sweet  and 
lovable  girls  ;  the  family  has  to  build  its  fortune  amid  dis- 
couragements and  trials  ;  their  ingenious  ways  and  means 
and  their  courage  amid  trials  and  temptations  make  a  pleasing 
story — pleasing  because  of  its  unpretentious  and  heartsome 
qualities. ' '  — Pittsburgh  Gazette. 

"  Lynn  was  the  brave,  unselfish,  hopeful  daughter  in  a 
family  struggling  with  reduced  circumstances.  Her  efforts 
to  become  a  wage-earner  brought  her  into  some  amusing 
situations.  Her  '  merry  heart,'  however,  carried  her  the  full 
'mile,'  and  we  leave  her  dreaming  of  a  happy  future  quite 
within  her  grasp." — New  York  Outlook. 

"  A  sweeter,  more  wholesome  little  tale  than  Mrs.  Cutting's 
latest  novel  has  not  appeared  recently.  It  has  the  same 
quality  of  intense  humanity  that  distinguished  the  '  Little 
Stories  of  Married  Life.'  Makes  valuable  reading  for  girls, 
whether  they  are  in  the  industrial  struggle  or  not." — The 
New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  '  The  Heart  of  Lynn'  is  as  sweet  and  as  healthful  a  book  as 
any  published  for  a  long  time. ' ' — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"The  style  is  charming  in  its  pure  simplicity,  the  charac- 
ters lifelike  and  the  conversation  and  incidents  natural." — 
Baltimore  Sun. 

"An  entertaining  and  well  written  story,  light  and 
charming." — New  York  Sunday  Sun. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA. 


BACCARAT 

BY   FRANK    DANBY 

AUTHOR      OF     "PIGS      IN     CLOVER" 


I2mo.     Six  illustrations  in  color.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


The  story  of  a  young  wife  left  by  her  husband 
at  a  Continental  watering  place  for  a  brief  summer 
stay,  who,  before  she  is  aware,  has  drifted  into  the 
feverish  current  of  a  French  Monte  Carlo. 

A  dramatic  and  intense  book  that  stirs  the  pity. 
One  cannot  read  "Baccarat"  unmoved. 

"The  finished  style  and  unforgettable 
story,  the  living  characters,  and  compact 
tale  of  the  new  book  show  it  to  be  a  work 
on  which  care  and  time  have  been  ex- 
pended. 

"Much  more  dramatic  than  her  first 
novel,  it  possesses  in  common  with  it  a 
story  of  deep  and  terrible  human  inter- 
est." — Chicago  Tribune. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


OLIVE  LATHAM 

By  E.  L.  VOYNICH 

Author  of  "Jack  Raymond"  and  "  The  Gadfly."      Cloth,  $1.50 

"  The  author's  knowledge  of  this  matter  has  been  pain- 
fully personal.  Her  husband,  a  Polish  political  refugee, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  vas  arrested  and  thrown  into 
a  vile  Russian  prison  without  trial,  and  spent  five  years 
of  his  life  thereafter  in  Siberian  exile,  escaping  in  1890 
and  fleeing  to  England.  Throughout  '  Olive  Latham' 
you  get  the  impression  that  it  is  a  veritable  record  of  what 
one  woman  went  through  for  love.  .  .  .  This  painful, 
poignant,  powerfully-written  story  permits  one  full  insight 
into  the  cruel  workings  of  Russian  justice  and  its  effects 
upon  the  nature  of  a  well-poised  Englishwoman.  Olive 
comes  out  of  the  Russian  hell  alive,  and  lives  to  know 
what  happiness  is  again,  but  the  horror  of  those  days  in 
St.  Petersburg,  the  remembrance  of  the  inhumanity  which 
killed  her  lover  never  leaves  her.  ...  It  rings  true. 
It  is  a  grewsome  study  of  Russian  treatment  of  political 
offenders.  Its  theme  is  not  objectionable — a  criticism 
which  has  been  brought  against  other  books  of  Mrs. 
Voynich's." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  So  vividly  are  the  coming  events  made  to  cast  their 
shadows  before,  that  long  before  the  half-way  point  is 
reached  the  reader  knows  that  Volodya's  doom  is  near  at 
hand,  and  that  the  chief  interest  of  the  story  lies  not  with 
him,  but  with  the  girl,  and  more  specifically  with  the 
curious  mental  disorders  which  her  long  ordeal  brings 
upon  her.  It  is  seldom  that  an  author  has  succeeded  in 
depicting  with  such  grim  horror  the  sufferings  of  a  mind 
that  feels  itse'f  slipping  over  the  brink  of  sanity,  and 
clutches  desperately  at  shadows  in  the  effort  to  drag  itself 
back."—  New  York  Globe. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


THE  ISSUE 

By  GEORGE  MORGAN 

Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50 


"Will  stand  prom- 
inently forth  as  the 
strongest  book  that 
the  season  has  given 
us.  The  novel  is  a 
brilliant  one,  and 
will  command  wide 
attention. ' ' — Phila- 
delphia Public  Led- 
ger. 

"  The  love  story 
running  through  the 
book  is  very  tender 
and  sweet." — St. 
Paul  Despatch. 

"  Po,  a  sweet,  lov- 
able heroine." — 
The  Milwaukee 
Sentinel. 

' '  Such  novels  as 
'  The  Issue '  are  rare 
upon  any  theme.  It 
is  a  work  that  must 
have  cost  tremen- 
dous toil,  a  master- 
piece. It  is  superior 
to  'The  Crisis."  " — 
Pitlsburg  Gazette. 

"  The  best  novel 
of  the  Civil  War 
that  we  have  had." 
— Baltimore  Sun. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


At  the  Time  Appointed 

By  A.  MAYNARD   BARBOUR 

Colored  Frontispiece  by  March&nd     •    -     Postpaid,  $1-50 

The  Washington  Post. 

"A  good  mystery  that  stimulates  the  imagination  and 
excites  the  deepest  interest." 

Doylestown  Intelligencer. 

"  A  volume  that  once  started  will  be  read  through  to  the 
the  end.  It  has  thrills  galore,  unexpected  situations, 
mysteries  enough — in  fact,  it's  the  real  thing." 

St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"  A  study  in  character,  and  a  very  unusual,  original 
love  story." 

Pittsburg  Dispatch. 

"A  stirring  and  dramatic  love  story." 

By  same  Author 

That  Mainwaring  Affair 

Illustrated.     Postpaid,  $1.50 

New  York  Life. 

"  Possibly  in  a  detective  story  the  main  object  is  to  thrill. 
If  so,  '  That  Mainwaring  Affair'  is  all  right.  The  thrill 
is  there,  full  measure,  pressed  down  and  running  over." 

New  York  Town  Topics. 

"  The  book  that  reminds  one  of  Anna  Katherine  Green 
in  her  palmiest  days.  .  .  .  Keeps  the  reader  on  the 
alert,  defies  the  efforts  of  those  who  read  backwards, 
deserves  the  applause  of  all  who  like  mystery." 

Denver  News. 

"The  reader  will  be  a  good  guesser,  indeed,  if  he  solves 
this  mystery  before  the  author  does  it  for  him.  A  pleas- 
ant love  interest  runs  through  the  pages." 

Publishers    ;    J.  B.  LipplACOtt    Company    :    Philadelphia 


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